Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince
by Story Please
Summary: Draco has a mission. It's too bad that Snape pisses him off. A comedy of errors begins to unfold, with plenty of sexual tension, longing and...other types of fun behind closed doors. This story is the proof that you really shouldn't mix different potions together without knowing what you're doing. And sometimes you find what you were looking for after thinking it lost forever.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note/Disclaimer Thingie: This story happens during the same timeframe as Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts. The first couple chapters have very little in the way of a mature theme, but there will eventually be a bunch of graphic sex in later chapters, so please don't read this until you're of legal age in the country you reside within. As you are probably well aware, these characters do not belong to me. I tried to be true to the spirit of the characters and the original material, but there will probably be discrepancies. I had to write this story because otherwise my brain wouldn't let me think about other things. For the rest of you, who like twisted people who do twisted things for twisted reasons, you're in for a treat. Constructive comments and feedback, as always, are highly appreciated._

**Chapter 1: The Would-Be Murderer **

Draco Malfoy was pacing in his dormitory. He was alone, but his eyes darted nervously towards the door every few moments. A few minutes passed and a dark shape moved in the crack under the door, darkening the serene glow of the hallway to the Slytherin common room.

There was a stiff knock at the door and without waiting for a reply, Professor Snape opened the door and stepped into the room.

He was an imposing figure in the dim green light. His tall frame clad in dark robes, greasy hair and pale, hooked nose gave him the appearance of a carrion bird looking down at the carcass of an unfortunate animal.

Snape looked at Draco and he flinched a little at the permanent ghost of a sneer he alway seemed to have curled over his lip. It made him look as though he was perpetually about to spoil someone's fun.

Apparently, he had found his target, because his lip curled back, as it so often did, in the sneering smile that he always gave before giving out a detention, especially to his favorite scapegoat, Harry Potter.

"I spoke with your mother," he said, dark eyes boring a hole into Draco's forehead.

The boy's eyes flickered for a moment before he replied.

"So?!" He tried to sound defiant, but his voice quivered slightly.

"She's worried about you," he said, darkly sarcastic, "Thinks her little baby boy isn't cut out for the scary mission from our Dark Lord."

His words had the desired effect. Draco clenched his fists in rage.

"I've got plenty of plans! Loads, really! I'm not about to let V-v-You Know Who down!"

Snape's face melted into a withering look.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be right on it, then," he said softly, looking at his fingers as though he didn't care, but his voice betrayed an underlying hint of irritation.

Draco crossed his arms.

"I don't care what my mother told you. I'm considered a Death Eater right now, and that makes me an adult. And I can handle the mission."

"Well," Snape's tone was brisk, "Then I will expect not to have to pick up after you. Because if you can't do it, I can promise you that the Dark Lord will be incredibly pleased by...my...services..."

With that, the man whirled, greasy hair and black cloaks snapping around with him.

"For what it's worth," Snape said as he retreated, "it may do you well to see things from a different perspective."

A quiet sound of glass clinked on wood and then he was sweeping out of the room like a great black bird.

The potion sat on the little end table by the door, the side of the label closest to Draco reading "PolyJ-".

He noticed then how tightly he had been clenching his fists and his hands dropped to his sides, breathing raggedly.

"I _don't need your help_," he finally said to the empty room, eyes still closed in an effort to hold back the angry tears in his eyes. He flopped down on his bed and rolled on his side, wrinkling the green and silver comforter as he covered his hands with his eyes. When he finally uncovered them, they were wide and red-rimmed but tearless. His gaze was drawn down to the brown satchel he had tossed down next to his nightstand. A small, fluorescent pink bottle with a distinctive triple W on the front surrounded by a big cartoonish heart poked impishly from one side pocket as though it had a mind of its own.

"He thinks that I'm just some kind of apron-strings twiddling prat!" Draco's lip curled into a sneer of his own as he said the thought out loud.

"But I'll show him. He might think he's the Dark Lord's favorite pet, but _I'm_ the actual pure blooded one. And for being such a dismissive shite-for-brains, I'm going to make him part of my little plan, keep him busy while I'm getting to what needs to be done-" he paused a moment, clenching his fists a bit as he thought about the task his master had given him only a few months ago and the slithery cold fingers that had brushed his cheek and turned his stomach icy with dread, "-and showing him what the _real _Death Eaters are capable of!"

He eyed the Polyjuice Potion on the far table and noticed that, hanging from the label like a greasy invitation, was a single strand of thick dark long hair, crinkled a bit at the end where it had been pulled from the scalp.

He smiled then, but it was not a nice smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Ivory Brush**

Snape didn't immediately go back to his office after his talk with the Malfoy boy. He needed to clear his head. All that time building a rapport with Lucius's son and for what? The boy was just as full of himself as his father. Sure, they fell all over themselves calling him "friend" or "colleague" when they needed something from him- special words for special treatment. But they treated his half bloodedness like some kind of distasteful shriveled limb that their eyes couldn't help but wander to when he entered a room.

And for all his talk about pure blood, Snape didn't actually put much stock in the whole concept, and it was this aspect about him that the Dark Lord particularly appreciated about him.

_"Ah, Severus," Voldemort had said to him only a few short months ago, his voice an imitation of warmth, at least as much warmth that could be mustered in his high, clear voice, "You alone understand the true aim of my unfortunately barbaric activities. Please do know that if there was any other way, I would explore it. This war I'm raging isn't about blood as much as it's about power. I could care less about the purity of a lineage as long as they can show me their capabilities to draw on their raw talents and in so doing, their usefulness to my cause._

_Sure, the so-called "pure blooded ones" have what they think is power- they merely draw on the power of ages, family heirlooms, money and other trinkets that make them feel important, as though they have some kind of ridiculous legacy. There are many people who have a lot to lose by being exposed for the vile scum they truly are, muggle and wizard alike."_

_His eyes were intense but far away as he looked up and out the window from where Snape had been standing in Lucius's living room, as though he were in front of a roaring crowd of followers and not one man with a perpetually dour expression._

_"That's what I'm here to do. To remove that artificial superiority built on the backs of the poor and the powerless while the so-called pure bloods go to seed and waste their time with displays of wealth and looking down their noses because of overblown stories about what their predecessors achieved. To languish in an indolent stupor like domesticated beasts that wait for their silver bells to be rung for supper. The true power, power developed from raw talent, will rise to the top, the inferior will die and only those who have the skill and cunning will survive and thrive under my undying watch."_

_He turned and his red, snake slitted eyes stared deeply into Snape's black glare._

"_There is no honor or use in a gaudy exterior, Severus. Only in the power within. I regret sometimes that the Potter child must die, that my plans cannot truly be realized until he has drawn his last breath. A part of him reminds me of myself, to be honest. He might have proven useful in the coming times ahead if he could merely get over the death of his foolish parents and forget the futility and weakness in feeling love or emotion ."_

_He then drew his pale hand lightly across Snape's cheek in a reptilian imitation of a tender gesture._

_"You have always been my favorite. The special one. A prince of talent, you are, and your dedication and raw ability shine through no matter how many others refuse to see it. _

_But I see you. _

_I see you as you truly are and if you remember nothing else, do remember that my fondness is a rarity that seldom few have ever stirred in me. You have the capacity for greater works still, and your loyalty is the linchpin that will destroy the last of the resistance against me and what I stand for. How lucky it is that you were able to visit me today."_

_The Dark Lord pulled a purple velvet bag from his robes. _

_"You may think me barbaric, but I know you have more need of this than its original owner. Take it and understand that I did not mean for things to turn out the way they did 16 years ago and ponder upon what I have told you. You are the only one I know who will be strong enough to see it through to the end."_

Snape had been lost in thought but a stifled giggle pulled him out of his reverie. It was late afternoon but not yet time for the evening meal at the Great Hall, and a lot of students were still moving down the halls in an ignorant bliss that made Snape's stomach churn with disgust.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him pause mid stride. He pretended he hadn't noticed the four shoes sticking out of the bottom of the velvet curtains that lined the hallway. It might not have been all that noticeable except for the fact that all the other curtains were pulled back and tied with silk cords to let in the toasted amber autumn light.

He cleared his voice overly loudly, made a couple of artificially loud steps in the opposite direction and then swooped silently towards the curtain like a greasy black owl, sneer breaking across his face in such a gleeful and practiced manner that he forgot for a moment about his foul mood.

He ripped the curtains back and found a golden haired third year boy in Hufflepuff colors with his hand down the shirt of a Gryffindor girl a head taller than him. She still had a half glazed but surprised look on her face. Her lips were wet and deep red from snogging and her face as well as the top of her cleavage (did girls ever have cleavage like that back in Snape's Hogwarts days? Not likely, he decided) were flushed a lewd red.

The boy froze like a child caught with a hand in a cookie jar, his eyes widening from desire to terror in a fraction of a second when he saw Snape's glowering face stooping down inches away.

"And what might you be doing, then, Mr. Hughthorn?" Snape's voice oozed with contempt.

"I, uh, I just-uh, we were-"

Snape was secretly glad that he made a point of memorizing the names of all his current students and then mentally keeping a checklist of all of the mistakes they made throughout their years at the school. Nicholas Hughthorn was going to rue the day he had crossed Severus Snape in a bad mood.

"I am not blind," he said dispassionately, "Ten points from Hufflepuff. I mean really, what were you thinking, with a Gryffindor too!"

His eyes ran slowly over the girl and he scowled extra hard at her exposed cleavage as she kept trying to button up her shirt with shaking hands. She too had a similar look of white faced terror. He recognized her as a fourth year named Octavia Wildon.

He smiled cruelly, and felt a red hot prickle run from his throat to his groin. Her skin was so smooth and unblemished. It reminded him of...no, there would be time to think about her later.

"Miss Wildon," his voice did not betray any emotion beyond his fathomless disdain, "You are old enough to know that such things are not permitted on school grounds."

There was no written rule about consequences for students fraternizing in such a manner, but as most students never even read the list of Hogwarts rules for student behavior, Snape relished the fact that he could be extra severe even if there was no written punishment outlined on parchment.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor," Snape said slowly, like he was still thinking about it, daring her to mouth off at him, to question his authority, "Yes. I do think that explaining to your fellow house members why you're lower than all the other houses by a significant number points will remind you to keep your clothing in its...appropriate place..."

He paused, and Octavia flinched as though he was about to strike her.

"...This time," he finished, and he locked his piercing gaze on the two of them until they had scurried around a corner and out of sight.

'Serves them right,' he thought bitterly, his thoughts straying to his own youthful flailings and Lily, always Lily, close enough to touch but never really substantial to him. By the time they had graduated, they were in separate worlds, and it would only be a few years later before she would be beyond his reach forever.

He was so lost in thought that he completely missed out on catching a couple of Gryffindors running in the hallway adjoining his, their shoes slapping against the weathered stone in a cacophony of joy.

By the time Snape had reached the door to his office ("Severus Snape, Professor, Defense Against the Dark Arts", read the golden plaque on the door, kept polished to a shiny glow by the house-elves), he was in a particularly morose mood. The anger and irritation from earlier had whittled down into a hard sharp point of misery and he felt more alone than ever.

He almost couldn't bear solitude but the thought of having to be around other people made the bile rise to the back of his throat.

He drew his wand from his cloak and muttered, "_Severus Entrus_," with a quick twisting motion. A deep metal clicking, as though many tumblers and latches were rolling into place, filled the hallway and then all was still. He gently pushed the door and it opened silently as though lined with silk.

It was dark inside, but small green lamps lit for him as he walked back through a narrow entrance hall into his office. He passed a dark room that appeared to have some ambient light in the background, though there were no visible lamps or torches inside. The outlines of glass bottles and beakers as well as a thick rectangular object that was most obviously a storage for various ingredients lay quietly as his robes whispered quietly down the hall. He reached a small unremarkable wooden door at the end of the hall to his left and paused. The door seemed more like an oval wooden shape than a door, as there were no hinges or knob to turn.

Again, he drew his wand from his cloaks.

"_Entradata aluminous_!"

The door glowed faintly and golden leaves and patterns began to etch themselves into the grain in the wood. In the center, a golden doe with large, watchful eyes formed, and from her feet pooled a metal door latch where previously there had been nothing. Two golden hinges had looped into existence on the right.

The door opened and a soft golden light bathed the room as though the door was giving off light of it's own. Inside sat a large mirror attached to a vanity with several drawers on either side. An assortment of bottles were strewn on the table top and something was draped over the chair.

Snape carefully entered the room as though it were a sacred place, and indeed it was for him. The door slipped shut behind him, but the glow remained, leaving his vision soft around the edges. He sat down and bent down, pulling up a small glass bottle with a softly glowing green liquid inside. The label read "Wyrm&Woode's Ambient Absynthe."

He unstoppered the bottle and took a long draw of the liquid, his head bent back baring his pale white throat. When he was done, he placed the bottle back under the vanity again, and looked darkly into the mirror. He looked deep into his own dark eyes, the corneas so black that he appeared to only have a giant black pupil in each eye. Perhaps it was a function of the effectiveness of the drink, but the whites of his eyes seemed to glow a little green. The nose was getting more hooked each year, he thought to himself, not sure whether or not to be proud of it. Salazar Slytherin had a similar sort of nose, after all, what many men called the nose of nobility. But it still looked a bit out of place with his pale, pinched cheeks and sallow, marble-like skin. And his nose had not nearly been as prominent when he was younger, when he spent hours with _her, _and a part of him wanted to rewind his own time so that he could live it over again.

He opened a drawer on the right and pulled out a bundle of dark red silk. It was a handkerchief, one of the old ones from Gryffindor. He unwrapped it slowly, and the fabric slid away to reveal a small white ivory colored brush. He turned it over, running his fingers down the length of the handle shivering slightly with pleasure. He traced the grooves etched in a looping cursive in the back of the brush from memory.

"L.E." He mumbled without realizing it and he turned the brush over to reveal a few strands of reddish hair caught between the bristles of the brush. He realized with a twinge that soon, he would no longer be able to use the ingredients from the brush, an old possession of Lily's that he'd found on the train in her sixth year and half forgot, half simply didn't want to return it.

He pulled a coppery strand from the bristles and slid his fingers down the hair. He knew that even though he knew he shouldn't do it, that it was wrong and terrible of him, of her memory, another part of him was screaming with need, with decades of unfulfilled longing and he decided before even admitting it fully that he was going to do it again.

He gently set the brush down on the wrinkled silk pattern of a golden lion and began gathering the materials together.

"Soon," he said, turning his piercing gaze over to the half torn picture that had been slid between the mirror and the wooden trim around it. The woman smiled and waved from the picture as though in reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Wrong Victim**

It was such a simple plan, Malfoy thought, that there was absolutely nothing that could go wrong.

He was going over the plan with Crabbe and Goyle, well, the parts that were the most important- as loyal as his henchmen were, Malfoy did not want to tell them the full extent of what he was planning. As far as they were concerned, this was yet another malicious prank to ruin Harry Potter's life just a little more than usual and if everything went according to plan, he would probably be expelled as a bonus.

The plan was perfect, it just needed to be set in motion. And what better time to execute it than the present? After everyone else had filed out for dinner, Malfoy gave Goyle and Crabbe each a small glass of faintly steaming liquid.

"This one is that Weasley kid, and that one is Longbottom. You should only need a couple minutes to get in and get out. Remember, Weasley owes Potter a butterbeer. Make sure you give it to him, and insist that he taste it to make sure it's cold enough and hasn't expired because you're a poor little git and don't know any better."

Crabbe smirked at this, but Goyle took a couple moments to catch on and laughed a little too hard, making Malfoy narrow his eyes in irritation. He continued on, "Then get out of there before your doubles return. They should be occupied by those fake love letters I slipped in their satchels during class, both from two attractive Ravenclaw girls who definitely won't even give them the time of day. I only wish I could be there to see their faces when they get shot down in flames."

He looked at them severely, "And remember, if worse comes to worse, whoever is going to be Longbottom needs to create a diversion, preferably one that makes him look ridiculous, well, more ridiculous than usual."

Goyle had begun to frown in a way that made his eyes begin to cross and opened his mouth a bit like a fish, as though debating whether or not to begin actually talking.

Malfoy shot him a withering stare that Snape would have approved of if they weren't currently at odds with one another, "You had a question there, Goyle?"

"Well yeah but nah but, well, how're we supposed'ta get in through the door in the first place?"

Malfoy massaged at his temples in exasperation.

"I told you that I had that covered, ok? Just make sure to change into the Gryffindor robes I nicked for you from the laundry room and let the Polyjuice do the rest."

The two thuggish boys looked at each other in silent agreement and then gulped down the contents of their respective glasses.

"Ugh, this tastes like burning leaves, it does," Goyle choked out before collapsing to the floor and writhing in pain as his body contracted and bone structures reworked themselves.

"At least yours don't taste like a wet rat covered in filth," Crabbe was able to say before he too was on the floor moaning in discomfort.

Malfoy began to wonder how Crabbe would know what such a thing tasted like in the first place, but snapped himself out of it as the boys picked themselves off the floor with new faces and bodies to match.

"When you're done with your bellyaching, you're gonna want to put on these clothes, boys," he said with a malevolent grin as he handed the uniforms over, "We've got a Potter with a life that needs destroying.'

* * *

Hermione was doing her best to appear engrossed in _Mermish for Mortals_, but in actuality she had been trying to read the same line for twenty or so minutes and watching the words blur together as she blinked back tears. She'd had a lot of practice at it, after all. Her lack of tact and obsession with learning didn't make her very popular in school unless someone had something to get out of her. _Then_ it was all "_Hermione, you're so great" and "Hermione we need you." _But they didn't care in the end, not really.

She heard the words "muggle" and "overachiever" and "teacher's pet" snickered behind her back as she pretended not to notice. She knew that if she said anything that it would become overt and even more unbearable. She'd learned the hard way in the school she had attended before Hogwarts. She had thought that the magical world would be different; more refined and deeply enriched in ways that muggles were not, but she had been disappointed to find that wizards were really quite the same, only with owls instead of postmen and elixirs instead of antacid tablets.

And as for friends...

_'As far as they're concerned, I'm simply a perpetually bushy-haired third wheel,' _she thought bitterly, and a tear leaked out, causing her to blink rather quickly to spread out the moisture so it wouldn't trickle down her cheek.

Stupid, stupid. She was being so stupid. It was completely unfair, that's what it was. To have a crush on him when all he did was bicker with her when everyone knew she was right and then copy off of her homework every chance he got. She hated his stupid red hair and his stupid freckles and his stupid tall, lanky body...but then she hated herself for thinking that way because she knew she was deceiving herself as she forced herself to think it. The worst part of all was that it should have been logical to resent him, to hate the fact that they were always at odds with one another. But her heart wasn't her brain, and there was no book in the library, including the forbidden section (she had checked, obviously), on how to stop feeling the way you feel if you don't want to feel that way anymore.

She finally shut the book with a loud thwack and sneezed as it unsettled the dust within the pages. She would go to their room and see if she couldn't get him to apologize for his latest blunder. Maybe then she could feel halfway justified in letting him copy her potions homework. And maybe she could somehow get close to him and brush against his hand or his thigh without him minding or flinching away the way he always seemed to do when she got more than a foot away from him. It wasn't a good plan, she knew, but it was better than sitting on her bed with a throbbing heart and a thin line of desire running through the length of her body.

She dusted off her robes and flattened her skirt. It would have to do. She picked up the parchment for the potions essay and walked down the steps towards the Gryffindor common room.

It was quiet and almost empty, she saw, when she got to the base of the stairs. She realized it was later than she had thought it was. Most everyone would be down in the Great Hall for supper.

She heard the painting at the entrance to the common room swing open. She glanced over to see Neville and Ron entering with uncomfortable looks on their faces.

"Oh look," Ron said, his voice a growl, "It's _her." _He was holding a bottle in his hand.

Neville laughed in a very uncharacteristically cruel manner and then seemed to catch himself, saying a bit absentmindedly, "Don't worry about _her_, we gotta, you know, for Potter, and, er, stuff."

They pushed past Hermione in an abrupt manner into their dorm room, and minutes later reemerged and swept past her with nary a sideways glance, intently talking about how it couldn't be helped because everyone was at the Great Hall anyway and discussing what they hoped would be served for their evening meal. Being ignored was almost worse, Hermione thought. At least when people looked at you in the eye, you could keep some dignity about you. But when people slid their eyes around the spot you were standing like you simply did not exist, you became singularly insignificant, and she found she could not even summon her voice to ask them to wait up.

She decided that she was angry and let it flow into her like a cool flame. Anger felt so much better, so much less painful than the ache of unrequited affection. She turned and used her opportunity in the deserted tower to make her way into the boy's dormitory because all she could think about was revenge.

The room was a mess as usual. Hermione doubted that even the presence of house elves would be enough to tame the clutter and careless filth of the room before her.

Wrappers from Chocolate Frogs and all manner of other candies were strewn about randomly and dirty clothing was heaped haphazardly on the floor and across beds and over chairs. She marveled (and not for the last time) that the boys could all eat so many sweets and still look like beanpoles. It suddenly made quite a lot of sense that Harry had turned up in class that very morning with pants rolled up at the ends while Ron looked like he was dressing for a flood. Now that Ron was quite a bit taller than his best friend, it was quite obvious that they weren't always grabbing the proper trousers in the mornings.

She hadn't meant to giggle out loud, but it escaped her lips anyway. She felt her anger soften for a moment, but she felt it flare up again when she saw the bottle of butterbeer on Harry's nightstand. A note next to it read "Just paying you back for spotting me last Hogsmeade trip! Your best mate, Ron".

Hermione saw red. Harry hadn't bought butterbeer for Ron last time. Or the time before. Or the several times before that. It had been _her_.

She didn't realize what she was going to do until she suddenly became aware that she had the butterbeer in her hand. A pang of guilt made her reconsider for a brief moment, but when she glanced back to the note (and that poor penmanship, she noted with irritation), she couldn't help herself.

She twisted the top off the bottle and gulped it down, barely tasting it at all. It was only when she put the bottle down that she noticed a strange aftertaste that she couldn't quite place, and after ripping up the note, she noticed that she was feeling something else besides the flutter of rage in her chest.

It was like being on fire, a persistent beat of yearning that built from nothing in an instant. Her mind began to wander, almost feverishly and an unusual image of a man began to form in her mind, his hooked nose softening as a haze of desire overtook her.

She hadn't realized she was still sitting on Ron's bed with her eyes hot and glazed as though feverish. She took a moment to blink a little with bewilderment and her tongue felt oddly sluggish in her mouth as the word slipped from her lips like a gasp.

"Snape."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Snape's Secret**

He knew the moment that he laid eyes on her that she was special, which was saying a lot, since she had come from a purely muggle background. He'd grown up being told that purity mattered, that Mudbloods were destroying the wizarding world with their strange, non-magical ways and worse, diluting bloodlines until every drop of magic was squeezed out. His mother had been a hard woman and she had taken her lot in life poorly and with very little grace. His father mostly sat uselessly on the couch with a bottle or two at his side and aimed blows at his scrawny son whenever young Severus had the misfortune to get too close. But his mother had taken out her anger on him in a far more insidious way. Her anger at him for simply existing made him feel utterly alone and a bitter seed took root in that loneliness and it overpowered every other feeling in his being.

Even then, he had been gaunt and corpse-like with the hint of a sneer at his lips. But Lily did not disparage him for existing. She looked into his black eyes and saw the light of his soul, a sentiment that had made him laugh wryly when she had said it, but that had struck him deeply in a way that never allowed him to forget it. She could be so effortlessly sentimental and yet she never put up with shenanigans, not from her friends and certainly not from her enemies.

He'd been drawn to her power in childhood, not fully knowing how to articulate it in his awkwardly harsh way. He had pushed her away, true, but at the time, he had been far too proud and far too ashamed to admit it.

"Sev," she had told him one cold afternoon by the lake only a few months before she had stopped talking to him altogether, "You need to think beyond finding someone with the answers, with the power to control this or that. It's not about being at school forever. You need to think long and hard about what sort of man you want to become. You're brilliant, you know, but you don't take care of yourself and you're prone to following the biggest, baddest wand-carrier. There's a part of you that desires so badly to follow someone that you almost don't care who owns you or if they parade you about like a dog on a lead, and that kind of desire can take you to terrible, dark places."

He had wanted to ask her if she wouldn't mind showing him the right road, to walk along it with him and show him what she meant, but he wasn't smooth with his words and somewhere between his brain and his tongue, his words had simply jumbled into, "I know what I'm doing. You don't have to worry about me."

"You know how much I care for you," she said gently, "Please, Sev, I feel like I'm going to lose you."

She was the only one who called him Sev, or indeed could get away with shortening his name. Well, perhaps that was generous. There really was no one, not even Dumbledore himself, who desired the level of familiarity required to call him by a nickname.

He knew it was wrong for him to do it. He knew and still he made the decision to do it because denying himself the fleeting pleasure of seeing her face staring back at him in the mirror, even if it was for a short time, was almost too much to bear. It was all his fault and he could never allow him to forget that fact. That she had turned from him, that she had given a chance to that blowhard Potter and married him shortly after graduation. That she had died protecting a child that was not his, that now he was forced to look into the eyes of her son- so very similar to her eyes that he had to force extra contempt out into his face just to look at Harry without losing his composure.

He knew that he was a bastard. That his behavior was inexcusable. The temple of her skin felt defiled when he walked in it and yet he could not stop himself.

For indeed this was the reason he flew off the handle more readily when his Polyjuice Potion stores ran low. It took a month and a half to make it perfectly with his own improvements, of course. Indeed, he had barely been able to part with the small bottle to help Malfoy and fulfill his duty to the Unbreakable Vow.

He opened a hidden compartment in the dresser by flicking a small raised flower on the right side of the mirror's frame and pulled out a clear crystal decanter with facets that threw faint rainbows around the room, even in the soft and muted light. It was filled part way with a dark, thick liquid.

He poured a small draft of potion into a crystal cup and then added the strand of hair. A small heating incantation later and it was bubbling slightly. He knew she would have been proud. They both had had a knack for potion making and their professor had even said at some point that they were like two Mogwart peas in a cauldron. His mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile at the memory. Working together in potions class was where many of his best memories were created. When it was just the skills and the ingredients and her green eyes focused and steady next to him, it was the closest to a fulfilled fantasy that he could get. Why did the houses have to become so cliquish in his fifth year? It was as though the professors were encouraging more hardcore competition and it had driven a wedge between himself and Lily that eventually had widened into an uncrossable chasm. Perhaps, though, it was simply his miserable sentimental mind playing tricks on itself- trying somehow to grasp at a scenario where his loss was not his fault.

"Now to leave it to set for twenty minutes for full potency," he muttered as though reading the instructions from the air.

He set down the brush again and rose from the chair. A small door to the side of the chamber was slightly open, revealing a toilet and three walled stone shower with a cloth curtain that fluttered slightly in the draft that whistled between the crack in the door. He despised showers on principle but she was worth it. Clean skin made the transformation more complete.

Silently, he disrobed and carefully placed each black garment over the back of the chair, making sure to store his wand in the inner fold of his robes. The hot water and steam would not be a good environment for a wooden wand. Still, he felt oddly vulnerable without it, like he was forgetting something. He was so singularly focused on his task, that he did not notice that the door to his office had been left slightly ajar.

Hermione felt a drunken pulse fill her body, obsession roaring in her ears. She wanted to possess him, to get so close that she could slide under his skin and never be parted from him. A small part of her in the back of her head shuddered in disgust- he was so much older than her. Not to mention the fact that he had treated her stellar abilities in every one of her classes as though it were barely worth notice instead of the outstanding work she knew it was. In her mind, she had worked hard enough that it wasn't bragging to say that she was highly skilled in both potions and defense against the dark arts. But another part of her wondered if she wouldn't have spent so much energy trying to prove Snape wrong if he had complimented and congratulated her as readily as the other professors.

Her prefect badge caught the light of the green torches as she cautiously pushed open the door to the office. She couldn't remember walking there- her feet moved as though pulled by an invisible thread. Somehow, even though classes had long been over for the day, she knew he was still in here. The open door felt like an invitation. _Come in and find me_, it said to her, and she didn't tarry in the hallway out of fear of being seen.

She walked cautiously past the darkened antechambers of what she guessed were Snape's personal collection of potions and personal work area. There was a hallway and at the end of the hall, a door with ornate gold patterns on it. This door too was not fully closed, a small piece of cloth had stuck around the latch and prevented it from closing completely.

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame some of the bushiness. A new feeling washed over her- a kind of fear and self consciousness that almost made her nauseous. She should have done herself up before coming. Her mind raced, feeling terrible about the state of her appearance, still in her plain grey uniform.

She steeled herself and pushed the door open.

Inside the chamber was the sort of vanity that would belong to a young woman. She saw the cup sitting on the table and yet again felt that tickly feeling inside of her that this was meant to happen, that it had been left there for _her. _

She sat down softly and raised the glass to her lips in an almost trance-like motion. It was still rather warm as though it had recently been over a flame and had a sweet, grassy flavor, like the scent of air in the evening at the end of a summer's day.

She felt a cold sweat cover her body then. Her skin began to pale from the sun-kissed tan of the summer months that had stubbornly held on to an even, milky white.

Her skin felt like it was bubbling and melting, but in a peculiarly funny sort of way, as though she were rising to the top of a champagne bottle. The bubbling turned into a tickly strange flutter that started in her chest and traveled to her groin, cultivating an even stronger wave of heat and desire than what she had felt before.

Her hair fell flat and silky with only a slight wave that framed her face, auburn melting into a reddish copper. And as soon as it had started, it suddenly and abruptly stopped. Hermione's sight snapped into a sharp focus and she cautiously pulled herself from the floor, righted the chair and was about to tend to the garments that had slipped to the floor when she had tumbled from the chair, when she happened to glance into the mirror and couldn't help but stop what she had been doing and stare, open-mouthed, at her new appearance.

She looked into the mirror, touching her face in a slight shock. The young woman she had transformed into was about her age but a bit taller and somewhat more willowy. Her torso was longer, pulling Hermione's shirt up enough to show her navel, and the skirt was dangerously close to slipping off her meager hips. Somehow, the feeling of loose cloth against her new body felt deliciously pleasurable.

She kept looking into the green eyes in the mirror, feeling a hazy sort of déjà vu. It was then that she noticed the half torn photo. With a start, she realized that the face reflected back at her was a somewhat younger version of a woman she had seen quite a few times dancing with her husband in a photo next to Harry's bed that she'd seen several times when visiting the boys in their dorm. She gasped with knowing, but a thrill rolled through her body.

Why would Snape have a potion to transform someone into young Lily Potter?

It was then that she noticed that among the clothing on the floor were a set of familiar black robes. She knelt down a bit unsteadily on her new legs, and before she knew what she was doing, she dug her face into the folds of the garment and sucked in the scent of him. Remarkably, they did not smell terrible, as one might imagine someone who worked for years in a potions classroom might. A part of her brain knew that they wouldn't. A sense of knowing him that Hermione had never felt in all her years at school began to seep in around the edges of her consciousness like a whisper in another person's voice. It only served to deepen the frantic obsession beating in her heart. The small logical voice deep in her head was telling her that she was only doing this because she'd drunk something strange in the butterbeer, but a part of her felt out of place and was assuming a stronger control over her body as though she was being worn like a set of clothing. And somehow, she knew that whatever she had taken in the glass on the dresser was more than just a way to transform the body.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, inhaling deeply into the fabric and smelling a cinnamon and citrus scent, as well as a dark almost earthy smell that she couldn't quite place. She hummed absentmindedly and was only half surprised that she didn't sound like herself anymore. The last time she had taken Polyjuice potion with Ron and Harry, everyone had kept their original voices. But this time was different.

She became aware of another noise, the sound of water. She picked up the robes and draped them reluctantly over the chair again, noticing the wand inside of an inner fold of the black overcoat. A part of her realized that as much as she was hoping the object of her affection would fall all over her, leaving a wand where he could easily Stupify her if he took it badly probably wasn't a good idea and so she took the wand and slid it down the side of the back of the vanity. She still wanted to wrap the cloth around her- the desire was almost like a physical pull-but she also knew that her object of desire was beyond that side door and she hungered to join him.

She willingly lost her battle with the loose skirt and let it slide to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The Problem With Shower Thoughts**

Snape did not like spending hours in the shower, but the truth of the matter was that it had been awhile and his hair had been particularly greasy. The first time he had used his special Polyjuice blend, it had been a week after finding Lily's lifeless corpse and, after drinking until he could only barely manage to propel himself by stumbling around, he had found himself messing about in his old Hogwarts trunk, looking at the various memorabilia inside and feeling stupidly emotional about it. That was when he had found the silk scarf with her brush wrapped inside. The fabric of the scarf still held a hint of her scent in it, and it had hit him like a bludger right to the gut. It had been a stupid thing to cry over and ugly sobs had wrenched his body until he felt as flat and empty as the charcoal drawing poking out from the side of the trunk that was from their sixth year portrait class. Gryffindor and Slytherin were doing a still-life class and she'd thrown it out after accidentally drawing a particularly lopsided apple that couldn't be corrected, but that he'd retrieved by waiting to be the last to leave and secretly folding it into his textbook. He was still silently collecting things that had touched her even though he knew he had lost her friendship and the hope of anything beyond it. The only saving grace in sobbing like a child as he remembered what he had lost was that at least he had been alone and the drunken haze of his brain was kind enough to make his memory almost nonexistent the next morning.

He had grasped a hair that had dangled out the side of the bristles and knew even then about what he was going to do. His mind immediately sifted through the ingredients and the instructions. And indeed, he often kept a drought of Polyjuice at home in his own personal stores. He heated the potion, stirring with shaking hands and added a single strand of her dark red hair, not even willing to wait the 20 minutes so that it would last more than an hour. The taste of her going down his throat had been the most maddening kind of pleasure because he knew exactly how fleeting it would be, that it would not bring her back, and he felt himself change until the girl who stared back at him in the mirror was the girl he desperately wanted to live even if he was the one to die in her place. But it was too late, too late for it to be more than a quick gasp of pleasure here and there, running his hands over his body in her form. Trying out all of the things he had wanted to do, had dreamed of exploring if she had only accepted his desire and memorizing the gasps and expressions that her face made as he learned how her body reacted to touch in even the most intimate of places.

He had never been able to articulate it to anyone in words, but his life was hers forever in a way that even the death of their friendship or indeed her actual death could not sever. No one knew and he surely wasn't willing to tell anyone, but she had saved his life more than once. The first time had been when she had met him, a lonely, abused and angry child who had never had a friend in the world or known anything resembling love. Even the smallest hint of concern from her made him turn like a wilting flower towards the sun, and he drank every drop of self worth she offered him as though she were offering him a canteen in a desert.

The second time was because of the _Sectumsempra_ spell, which he had created as a student. He had written in his potions book that it was for enemies only, but this wasn't quite true. Because to a person like himself, alone and ostracised by most people, including many of his Slytherin peers who didn't see much in the way of greatness in him, his worst enemy was himself. As Lily began to behave more and more distant, he began to feel less and less like there was any reason to continue living. He'd get a whiff of power from his little proto-Death Eater friends to help him cope with losing the intimacy of Lily's friendship, but he felt more like a hanger-on than an actual member. They never let him live down his half-blood status, either.

* * *

_It had been an overcast and cold afternoon in early November. He'd gone out to the Forbidden Forest and was standing on the outskirts, trying to figure out where to do it, where his body would be found, hopefully by someone he didn't like so they'd be horribly scarred for life and before his corpse got eaten by thestrals or something. The thought made him grin in a hollow morbid manner. _

_He'd tried out a version of the spell on a dead rabbit that had been hanging on the side of the groundskeeper's hut the day before and was fairly sure that if he simply put his will into it, that it would simply tear him apart with relative ease, but he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold his concentration on the spell before passing out from blood loss. Decisions, decisions. He kept pacing back and forth- he'd start to go in and then change his mind out of a nauseous fear. He couldn't keep going on this way, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words._

_He was lost in his dark thoughts and didn't hear her approaching. But he did feel the weight of her cool hand suddenly touch him at the nape of his neck through his hair, and even though her fingers were not on his skin, his neck began to feel a tingling sensation that ran down to his toes._

"_You look like you're lost, Sev," she said, her face half between a good-natured smile and a concerned gaze._

"_Oh, you know," he said wryly, "Just looking for the perfect place to die."_

"_You don't sound like you're joking," the statement was flat and neutral, but her eyes began to look huge and worried. He wasn't sure if he loved her all the more for her concern, or hated her for making his plan go up in flames._

"_It's complicated," he tried to say airily, but failed._

"_I have an idea," she told him gently, "I'm going for a walk around the grounds and I think you ought to join me. This brisk air will do the both of us some good. What do you say?"_

_He staggered a little under the weight of her gaze and looked at his feet, unable to trust that he'd be able to keep his composure if he spoke._

"_Come on," she said, and then she slipped her hand in his and it was like electricity racing up his arm. She was cool, but he could feel the pulse underneath beating steadily as if to say, I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive._

_And in that moment, he knew he couldn't kill himself because she had saved him from himself yet again. She was life itself and if she wanted him, he would follow her for as long as he could be useful to her._

* * *

When she had died, it was worse than death. No, that was wrong. When she had died, it felt like he was being suffocated until he was about to lose consciousness for an entire day and then waking up and doing it all over again. It was spending every day feeling like everything was just a slow burn to his last breath, a prison sentence in a cold world where everyone hated him, but he still had to be useful for her, so he couldn't join her even though that was the only thing he wished for in the coming days, weeks, months and years. Even Dumbledore, who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend or a real family, had all of these complicated plans that revolved around massive events- prophecies and the machinations of the universe, both good and evil. Snape was a tool in a literal sense- and sometimes he wondered if Dumbledore even consciously considered him a person at all or if he saw Snape as little more than a breathing and non-cannibalistic inferi meant to do the bidding of his master and nothing more.

Snape never would have admitted it to anyone else, but he would have been satisfied just being at Lily's side. Hell, perhaps he should have become an animagus like Sirius and loped along on four feet and begged for belly rubs. He could have lived a life like that, even if he could never do more or be more to her than that. She had rescued him when he was hurting and stuck with him when he was making bad decisions and then, later, terrible decisions. He cursed himself for being so prideful and for refusing to listen to her words. He'd thought he would be cool and accepted for using all the terms his "friends" were using and after awhile, all the slurs and insults became sort of normal, like a code. But in a way, this was his punishment for selling her out (as Dumbledore unintentionally constantly reminded him that it was), and for destroying any hope for redemption.

A draft of chilly air prickled his skin into goosebumps and he surfaced from his thoughts. He instinctively reached for his wand before he realized that his wand was in the other room. No one should be in his offices- he _had_ closed the doors, hadn't he?

Just as he was trying to create a mental image to retrace his steps, he saw a shadow against the curtain to the shower stall, and he instinctively stepped back, trying to hide his nudity as slim fingers curled around the side of the curtain and slid the rungs over slowly, causing a metallic clicking noise to reverberate on the stone walls.

"Hi Sev," her voice said in that familiar tone, and he froze, "Mind if I visit with you awhile?"

'_I must be hallucinating,'_ he thought wildly, '_Or I'm finally going mad. But madness might not be the worst possibility, all things considered.'_

She was completely nude and he was staring and he couldn't help it. Her breasts were firm swoops of flesh dotted with tiny pink nipples but they were larger than he remembered- or maybe they just seemed larger when they weren't covered with a red sweater with a scarf hanging down the front and he didn't have to do that complicated mental math to imagine her without them. His eyes, for the first time, shone with an almost manic intensity and his pupils dilated hugely at the sight before him. This was the first time that it wasn't him staring back at himself, wearing her memory upon his own flesh. And if the makers of _Wyrm&Woode Ambient Absynthe_ had bestowed him with a hallucination that was as blessedly perfect as this, well, he was not going to argue with that. No one at this school knew to call him by his nickname. If he had any doubt in his mind before, he knew now that he was simply seeing things, but it was something he did not want to stop seeing, so he simply stared, transfixed upon her body.

"You're blushing, Sev," she said teasingly, though it was a good natured sort of ribbing that had no malice in it, "But ya gotta remember, I'm a little embarrassed too."

She spun around slowly, her arms out only slightly due to the cramped nature of the shower stall. He saw a small mole on her inner thigh, right next to her pubic mound, which was covered in a light dark, reddish hair that looked so soft he wanted to reach out and stroke his fingers over it and a slight dimple on her right butt cheek when she moved her hips from side to side. The parts of her that normally were hidden by clothing were still paler than the rest of her, which was saying something.

"Well?" she said, a bit of a waver in her voice, "Do I impress?"

She moved closer to him, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face, staining his cheeks a violent red. He tried to cover up with his hands, but he couldn't help how his body reacted to seeing _her, _and eventually his hands stopped putting up a struggle and they dropped to his sides. It wasn't like he should be afraid of being naked in front of his own runaway imagination. He was actually kind of amazed in a way that there was enough blood in his body to go to his both his brain and his cock.

She hadn't even touched him yet, but he felt like he was going to explode. She seemed to understand how he felt and wiggled her hips back and forth slowly in a mock suggestive way, just out of reach.

"Guess what I'm thinking about?" she said in a mock innocent tone of voice, "I'll give you three guesses. And if you get it right, you get a prize."

"You will have to do better than that," he replied, unable to help the sarcastic tone in his voice, "You know me. I want to know what I stand to win."

"Oh, well aren't you blunt today?" she flashed a smile of white little teeth and moved just a little closer. The spray of the shower head was warm, and droplets were spraying onto her body and then his own. He shivered a little, but he wasn't cold.

"I'm waiting," he said, trying to smile to show her how much joy she inspired in him, but his face made something closer to a grimace instead.

"Very well," she said, and then put one finger to her lips as though in mock deep thought.

"If you win," she said, her eyes meeting him directly for the first time and holding his gaze, "You get _me_."

His breath and his pulse quickened. He could hear it rushing in his ears: _I'm alive I'm alive I'maliveI'maliveI'maliveI'malive._

She brought her face up to his side as if to whisper in his ear, "Guess," she said, breathily, a wicked smile in her voice, "I promise I won't make it hard on you. You've already managed that quite well by yourself."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Prophecy of Antares**

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office after retiring from the Great Hall at the conclusion of the evening meal. The Sorting Hat sat atop a box of parchment, humming tunelessly to itself. He stared at his gnarled, dead hand and felt despair twisting into his chest. Things could have been so different, he thought, but nothing seemed to work out right, no matter how noble his motivations had been.

He regretted losing his first love to Azkaban. Why couldn't he have seen that Gellert's supposedly noble thoughts were less than noble? Why couldn't he have stopped the ideas from steamrolling out into real-world consequences? Sure, Grindelwald had played with his heart skillfully as though it were a musical instrument and he had lost his sister forever because of it, not to mention severed his tenuous relationship with his younger brother. But he still believed that if he had merely been able to bring himself to stop seeing with the eyes of desire and instead faced his first lover with a calm and cool head, he might have turned his friend around. He was not nearly as immune to the power of darkness as everyone believed. Love may beat back the darkness but lust, at least in his experience, merely brought more pain. In the end, he was an old man, an old man who had lost everything and was living on borrowed time.

"You still awake, then?" he asked The Sorting Hat as it finished humming, more as a formality than an actual question.

"Why yes, Headmaster," the Hat said, with a flourish of its tip, "What might I be able to do for you?"

"Have you ever wondered if you made the wrong decision, all those years ago?" his eyes were far away, remembering.

"Is this me we're talking about or you?" The Sorting Hat did not like being accused of making mistakes, even though it was merely a hat without a brain of its own.

"I'm merely an old man thinking of the younger man I used to be," Dumbledore replied serenely, "But do you remember when I began asking you to sort according to similar temperaments-when I received the prophecy of Antares?"

As though pressing a switch, The Sorting Hat began to hum and then to sing in a raucous and bawdy way that belied the serious words being recited:

_**"With death to be consumed again, **_

_**And light to meet the dark,**_

_**Look and find the golden mane,**_

_**To find the healing spark. **_

_**Within the house of red and gold,**_

_**Hearts must beat as one,**_

_**And by the merging of their blood**_

_**May goodness overcome."**_

Dumbledore's eyes closed in thought behind his half moon spectacles, while The Sorting Hat sang the tune again while substituting nonsense words in a ridiculous refrain.

"I had thought at the time that the meaning of the prophecy was clear," he said out loud, even though he knew that the Hat wasn't really listening, "That by ensuring the similarities of the students more than ever before, I would create solidarity within the houses, especially that of Gryffindor, and in so doing create the perfect environment for the cultivation of good and the power to defeat any evil, especially as Riddle and his goons were beginning to spread a swath of terror and death across the country."

"With all due respect," said a voice from the wall behind the Headmaster, "I'm not quite sure it worked."

Dumbledore turned to see Phineas Black staring at him with dark, impassive eyes.

"Is that so, Phineas?" Dumbledore replied goodnaturedly, "Please, do explain."

"Well, it was before your time," Phineas said, a bit loftily, "But back when I was Headmaster, you didn't see nearly as much concentration of negative attributes. Certainly, there were Dark wizards that hailed from Slytherin and plenty of Muggle born magic folk in Hufflepuff, but for every boastful Gryffindor brashly jumping to conclusions, there was a group of level-headed students in the house who held them back out of sensibility. For every cruelly shrewd and self-serving Slytherin, there were far more who used their skills in debate and in student mock government to create egalitarian solutions to combat abuses, favoritism and violence so that those with the skill and the determination could succeed on ability alone."

"There were more than a few dull-witted Ravenclaws," he paused as Dumbledore chuckled quietly, "But their heart and purely simple form logic often kept others from their house from wildly launching off into complicated conspiracy theories. When you spent those ten years honing the personalities of each house and subtly pushing them towards greater competition with one another-because, indeed, what greater way to force solidarity than through a common antagonist?-you widened the gap between true house cooperation and school solidarity and caused a lot of trouble in the process."

Phineas looked down his nose at Dumbledore and his eyes gravitated uncomfortably to the withered hand protruding from one of his sleeves.

"Say," said Dumbledore quietly, "Do you remember the story of Merlin?"

"Is it your intention to insult me, Albus?" Phineas was red-faced in his painting, "I don't have to listen to you nattering on all evening, you know."

"Calm yourself, Professor Black," Dumbledore assured him with a respectful tone, but his eyes twinkled mischievously in the firelight, "I was simply asking a rhetorical question. I was merely hoping to smooth over our topic of conversation to a somewhat different train of thought, and I must confess that I assumed that someone as quick-witted and intelligent such as yourself would be quite astute in understanding my intentions."

Phineas gave a knowing look, aware that he was being over-complimented, but he still preened a bit in his frame despite himself and nodded to show Dumbledore that he was free to continue.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, "Merlin. Also known as one of the greatest wizards of all time and known for being a champion of muggles and magical creatures. Also, legend has it, a Slytherin. No one can deny that he achieved quite a few marvelous deeds, for which he will go down in history as a legend with no equal.

"But being a wizard of such massive power, it was also uncomfortably easy to be tempted towards more _unsavory_ activities. Merlin was a big believer in the sheer amount of prophecy to be found in everyday life. Probably even more-so than our Professor Trelawny. So when he heard a prophecy by one of the most talented Diviners of his time, a woman name Morgan Le Fey, he was driven to see it through personally. She told him that a man of superior character and nobility would be born of a bastard union between one Uther Pendragon and a neighboring country's queen. This man, according to the prophetic vision, would unite a nation at war, banish evil from the land and create harmony between the muggle and magical worlds. So Merlin enchanted Uther to look like the queen's husband and slipped him into the castle when she was ripe for being filled with child and I'm sure you can guess the rest. The child born of their union was Arthur and under Merlin's watchful eye he did indeed grow up to be a legendary person, one who the muggles are still undecided if he was real or simply myth.

"But one thing I learned is that almost any prophecy can be applied to the time in which you live, and when you start trying to help a prophecy along, you may inadvertently cause your intended prophecy to come true."

Dumbledore was silent then, and part of him seemed to go to a secret place in his head, his eyes blinking sadly.

"What makes you say this?" Phineas replied, looking pointedly at a bookcase to his right out of embarrassment at Dumbledore's display of emotion.

"Isn't it obvious?" Dumbledore said quietly, "All you have to do is look at the number of former Gryffindor students who went on to marry other former Gryffindor students after I instigated the change in policy. Sure, you'll see former Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs marrying between one another, but the Gryffindors tend to stick with others who shared their house while at our school both romantically and professionally, and so have the Slytherins."

Phineas looked skeptical, "But how do you know that this wasn't really just because certain students in the houses tend to like each other because they spend a lot of time together in their respective common rooms or bonding over classes and sports?"

Dumbledore sighed, "A good question, Phineas, but one that I think I can answer fairly clearly. It only took one generation to spread the seeds of dissidence between the houses, to discourage romantic pairings outside of Gryffindor by playing to their pride and valor, making them feel that their house was the most virtuous of all. The Sorting Hat also happens to be very skilled at occlumency, which is very helpful indeed because it can find students whose interest in one another is compatible. In the first year I implemented it- indeed, Harry's parents were fifth year Gryffindors at the time, I had some of them come to my office and used The Sorting Hat to play matchmaker."

Phineas looked a bit shocked at this revelation, "I did not guess that this had been your aim. After all, you were fairly tactful about it, as I recall."

"The worst part of all of this," Dumbledore lamented sadly, "And something that I will carry to my grave, is the simple fact that Lily Evans, before she became Lily Potter, had serious feelings for her friend Severus Snape. But she was terrified of losing his friendship and concerned about his mental health. I had already become aware of his slide towards Dark wizardry and over a cup of tea I convinced her to give Harry's father a chance at the next Hogsmeade trip. I never pushed or coerced, simply planted the seed. And as you can see, she closed her heart to one person and opened her heart to another. She never could bring up the courage to tell her childhood friend the reason behind it, and when he sealed his fate by calling her a terrible name, I simply assumed everything had worked out for the best in the end and carried on."

"Very sentimental of you, Albus," Phineas said testily, "But exactly what is the point here?"

"The point is," Dumbledore said, his eyes a bit misty, "I am the reason why Severus Snape lives in eternal torment. But that's not the worst part, oh no. The worst part is that his pain from years of unrequited love is so _useful_ and so easy to exploit, even though I claim to be working for the side of good. And I fear that perhaps I'm starting to feel that in the end, there is no true noble and good cause in this world."

"Albus, it's not your job to fix the world," Phineas looked sternly at the headmaster.

"I know," Dumbledore replied quietly, "But I can try. Even if it means that good people must suffer greatly and I must live with the weight of knowing that it is all my fault."


	7. Chapter 7

**;)**

_**Author's Note:**__ So, in case you were wondering, there will be sex in this chapter. For those of you who are simply looking for the sexy bits, I'm going to place a ";)" in the header for any chapters in the future that involve sex. If you're the kind of person who doesn't like sex scenes and such, you can skip on by. Happy reading...*wink wink nudge nudge*_

**Chapter 7: The Opposite of Suffering**

She was looking at him with those wide eyes, like a doe in a forest clearing, waiting for him to guess at what she wanted. He felt as though the world around him was blurring around the edges while her face, her slightly nervous smile came into a hyperfocus. He knew that smile, had seen it on the first time they'd taken the train to Hogwarts together. It was a smile that meant she was so happy she could burst but she was still a little afraid and needed help. _His help. _

He mumbled something.

"What was that?" she said, the smile more hesitant now.

"Me," he said softly, barely being able to keep his voice from breaking a little, "You want…."

"Yessssss," she hissed breathily and took his chin in hand and tipped his face down to hers. He let her pull him to her. She smelled like sunshine and sweet grass and he lost himself in the sensation. He didn't care that he was probably hallucinating all of this, that the soft skin his hands were running over was a figment of his imagination, that her breasts pressing wetly against his chest were a fiction, that her taste and scent was not actually invading his every sense as he breathed her in through the wet, hot misty shower haze. Lily was dead, after all, and there was no way to come back from death.

She pulled away, face quizzical, "Are you...crying?"

He cleared his throat, but it still came out gravelly and hoarse, "I'd rather not answer that."

She lifted up one of her fingers and wiped the moisture that had gathered under his left eye, then stuck it in her mouth, tasting it. He didn't stop her.

"You just did," she said, turning the lever to shut off the water, which was unnecessary now as both of them were soaking wet. Her skin glistened almost magically in the halflight, and he couldn't stand _not_ to touch her body, to kiss her, to hold himself close to her so that maybe he could make his mind hold onto the memory of this moment forever.

His hands were on her shoulders, holding her close to his body, and she shivered with delight. She threw her arms around him, but at that moment, they started to slip a little bit, and giggling, she took his hand in hers, sending another electric shiver through his body just like she had that day at the Forbidden Forest, and gently pulled him towards the curtain with a naked desire on her face that was mirrored by his own.

They were both covered in small droplets of water and the air in the room was cold without the constant water running, but neither of them cared.

"Where can we-?" she asked him and couldn't even finish the sentence before he pulled her out of the shower and out into the room with the golden oval door. His brain was buzzing loudly with desire and he could barely think at all. He was afraid to take his eyes off of her because he was sure she would disappear forever.

"Anywhere," his voice was breathless and he was gasping between kisses and she simply moaned in reply. He led her, without seeing anything but her eyes staring back at his, over to the side of the vanity, where a thick, shaggy throw rug lay on the floor. It had been in her home the night she had been murdered, and while it was not something he would have chosen,he knew that she'd had it since childhood, that every morning she would get out of bed and sink her toes into it. The vanity had belonged to her too. This room was his tribute to the woman he'd never be with, and yet here she was. It was fitting that she would be here. It just felt right.

She sat down, laughing a little as the fabric tickled her naked body. He got down on his knees next to her and his black eyes were as huge as an owl's as he tried to etch every detail about her into his memory. He started kissing her softly, then, on the hollow of her neck and shoulder, down her back, feeling her shiver under the impression of his lips on her skin. He kissed her breasts, her belly, her thighs, the hollow where her pelvic bone met her pubic mound. He kissed her knees, her toes, and kept going until she was overwhelmed by his touch and laid back, her eyes half closed in trust and desire, and she opened her legs so he could see everything he couldn't before.

He ran his hand across her vaginal lips, massaged her labia in a way that he was familiar with after all of those years from getting acquainted with the feel of her body from his own point of view. His hair was sticky and wet against his back and he kept having to put loose strands behind his ears as he made her shiver, shudder and moan with his fingers, but he'd never felt happier in his life. His head was filled with a heat and light as though he was looking into the sun itself. It was as though he was mixing an original and singularly special potion, one he'd spent his entire life designing, created through trial and error, and was, once perfected, his best work.

His own body was threatening to go over the point of no return simply from licking her wetness from his fingers when she finally shuddered in climax.

"Please," she moaned, "I want you inside of me."

He couldn't think, there was no time to imagine any other option.

"Kiss me, Sev," she purred, and he did, sliding on top of her gently and guiding his cock inside of her as he did so.

He had only ever wanted to be inside of _her_ and nothing had changed that desire. If anything, the actual feeling was even better than he had ever dreamed it would be. She hugged around his back with her legs as he slid back and forth on top of her, warm and maddeningly wet as he moved.

He was going to come soon and he knew it. Sweat ran down the side of his nose and his eyes locked with hers as she reached up to wipe it away with her hand.

He moaned, trying to tell her, but no words came out.

She looked him in the eye and as he fucked her in long, slow strokes, she let the words out in a breathless rush.

"Come inside of me, Sev."

He closed his eyes to concentrate. He couldn't hold on much longer.

"Please, I want you to fill me up," the words were a whisper, but he heard each one, and they carved themselves into his heart.

A low moan escaped his lips as it built up inside of him, roaring to a climax.

"I want to give you a baby, Sev, so please, please," her voice was ragged and gasping like steam as she came around his cock.

He couldn't hold back anymore and the years of waiting, of lust, of loss and love poured out of him as her came; as his testicles pulsed harder than he could remember, pouring as much inside of her and pushing it as far back inside of her as he could, knowing _he_ was doing it to her after so many years of longing. Of course, he reminded himself, a figment of his alcohol-befuddled mind could not actually swell with his child, but the thought was intoxicating and he simply let his body follow the passionate leaps in his heart, hoping that the morning would not steal his memories.

His legs shook and his body quivered, and she brought his entire weight down on top of her, kissing his mouth softly.

He felt something pass between them like a momentary electrical shock, and her eyes seemed to glow a more brilliant green than before, but of course, that could always just be a trick of the light.

"Stay inside me as long as you can, won't you? I can't bear to be apart from you again" she whispered into his lips.

"Hunhhhh," he breathed, rather than spoke, but the meaning was clear.

He gathered his arms around her then, and they lay there panting and reveling in the afterglow of orgasm, neither of them noticing the tips of her hair curling and twisting back into an auburn snarl.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Best Laid Plans**

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Draco's normally impeccably slicked-back white-blond hair flew around his face as he shook with rage. He didn't want any fellow Slytherin students to hear from the common room, but he was so furious that his voice came out in a full-on bellow.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS?! DO YOU BOTH THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF JOKE?!"

The objects of his anger, Crabbe and Goyle, both still dressed in now ill-fitting Gryffindor robes, sat on Goyle's bed looking like shamed bulldogs.

Crabbe mumbled something and Draco shot a slit-eyed glare at him.

"Well, speak up, then," he rumbled menacingly, "I'd like to hear what was so important that you couldn't deliver one little item to its intended recipient."

He spat out each individual syllable of the last word in his tirade as though it were made of rapid fire verbal bullets. His two faithful goons shuddered as though they had been physically struck and Goyle let out a noise that was something akin to the sound of a kicked puppy before covering it up with a very fake-sounding cough.

"Well?!" He repeated intensely.

"I-it was Fresh Fried Friday," Crabbe wobbled as he attempted to steady his voice, "And me an' Goyle, we thoug-"

"Let me guess," Draco sneered rudely, "You simply _had_ to sneak down to the kitchens and get a preemptive snack even though I specifically _told_ you that you had to get there before Potter left for supper so you could put the blasted butterbeer _**in his hand**_."

The two objects of his rage shrunk back and nodded shakily, confirming his accusation.

"Your parents are Death Eaters," Draco snarled, "And you couldn't even manage to follow simple instructions. I'm _surrounded_ by total _**morons**_!"

He turned around and muttered to himself while Crabbe and Goyle shot frightened looks at one another, terrified of his wrath.

Draco tried to calm his mind, thinking of the possible consequences. Perhaps Ron would come back to the dorm room first and, not reading the message, drink the butterbeer himself. The mental image of Ron beating down Snape's door with lovesick ululations of desire made him smirk. Or, perhaps that Longbottom kid might indeed suffer a similar misfortune as his abysmal luck was in some ways legendary in its own right at Hogwarts. Of course, Potter was pretty oblivious to even the most simple trick, so perhaps the plan might even unfold as anticipated.

'Of course,' he thought darkly, 'He might simply toss it in his trunk and forget about it.'

Draco prided himself for devising such a cunning plan. But he knew then that no matter how much he wanted to pass off the smallest bits of it to others (even without their knowledge of his larger scheme), it simply wouldn't do. He had to do this _alone. _

For the first time in weeks, the haughty and proud look disappeared from his eyes and all that was left was a dull, drained sadness.

"Go on, then," he said softly, not looking at the two figures behind him, adding sharply, "Before I change my mind!"

They fell all over themselves trying to get out the door before Draco could shoot any further insults at them.

He shivered, goose bumps forming on his bare arms even though the room had not gotten colder in the least. He had pushed everyone away because he had been far too quick to anger and was too proud to admit that he had buried himself far too deeply over his head.

For the first time since the Dark Lord had stroked his face with creepy serpentine fingers and told him what he could do in exchange for the safety of his parents and friends, he allowed hot, silent tears to run down his cheeks, hitting the stone floor in earnest.

Draco Malfoy was utterly alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Transformations**

Hermione felt warm. _Too_ warm. And she _really_ had to pee. She opened her eyes halfway and tried to cut through the haze of sleep. Ugh, she felt sore all over- what had happened again?

She felt a sudden pulse of heat and desire between her legs, but it vanished when she realized that it had merely made her need to pee _even more_.

She found herself lying on a large white plush shaggy throw rug and sat up groggily as she rubbed her eyes. She felt like she was wearing blinders, like she had a very focused sort of tunnel vision that made it very hard to think clearly. The material she was sitting on was very soft, but the material tickled her back and her bottom, which made her wonder for a second why-

"Why am I naked?" She finally said in a hoarse whisper.

She looked up and saw what her bladder was aching for- an unfamiliar toilet but a toilet nonetheless. As she hurried over, she passed the vanity and saw a face that looked like hers, only she was very flushed and her eyes seemed...different.

She would have stopped to puzzle it out, but her stomach twinged wretchedly and she ran to do her business in its appropriate place. Her heart twisted strangely when she discovered that her..._nether regions_...were still coated with some kind of white, paste-like substance, and the answer to what it was seemed to be just at the tip of her mind's ability to grasp it. She was puzzled by how difficult any knowledge seemed to come to her. It was like straining butterfly wings through pea soup.

Once she finished taking care of her urgently screaming bladder and cleaned herself up a bit, she began to feel a familiar hazy lust-filled stupor returning with full vigor and the little voice in the back of her head warned her that she still must be under some sort of magical influence. The thing was, it became harder and harder to care at all, especially when she stood in the doorway of the bathroom and looked out into the soft deep glow of the room she'd woken up in.

An outline of a sleeping man's form lying with his head turned to the side, his hair obscuring much of his face, his bare back bright against the dark of the black cloak over his legs filled her view in the space next to where she had awoken, his arm now draped over the spot as though even in his sleep he was searching for her touch. A hot thread of pleasure at seeing him rose within her and a peculiar feeling bubbled through her like seltzer water. She felt her cheeks burning as her hair fell flat and silky just as it had before and a sense of knowing rose in her chest, beating her heart against her rib cage like a frantic bird.

"Oh Sev," a soft voice that wasn't hers slipped from her mouth, "You always give the most _heartfelt_ gifts. It's time I return the favor...as soon as you stop being a sleepyhead, that is."

Somehow, Hermione was unable to turn away and the little part of her mind that was still aware moaned with the fear and anticipatory pleasure of what she knew she was about to do as her body moved toward the man, green eyes fiercely shining with desire as she summoned all of her remaining strength and glanced at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

'_Impossible_' she thought, her mind a blur.

Somehow she had transformed back into the memory of a dead girl without having imbibed one drop of Polyjuice potion.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: What Dreams May Come**

Severus Snape was more relaxed than he had ever been in his life, and that was a blessed relief for him. Perhaps partly due to the strength of his personal supply of absinthe and partially due to the obviously intense rutting that he had been engaged in the night before (however imaginary it may have actually been), he had fallen into a particularly deep and dreamless sleep.

Part of him did not wish to wake up again, knowing that the intense hallucination from the night before was most definitely just that. Dead people don't just mysteriously appear alive and naked in one's shower, after all. His consciousness bobbed up from the deep current of dreamless rest and he began to dream.

He was back in his home at Spinner's End, but it was very different than the bleak and cluttered abode he was used to. The walls were bright, painted a soft celery green that seemed to pull the daylight through the room and illuminate the shadows he was used to skulking around in. The house was no longer filled with trinkets and books everywhere, but there was a room that appeared to house a substantial library, one that was obviously placed there magically, as the room that it was located in could not have been half that size on the outside. There was a hectic alien tidiness to the hallways as he walked slowly through the house.

The sound felt muted; his vision was slightly blurry and overly bright in the way that dreams alway make things go soft around the edges. As he came to the end of the hall into the front parlor, he heard a jarringly clear tinkling sound coming from the top of the stairs. He turned, and the rest of the home was swallowed into a swirl of shadow behind him as he inclined the pale hook of his nose upward to the top of the upstairs landing and swept darkly to his right.

A soft light came from the little room. In it, familiar items were arranged, but that couldn't be right. This was _the room_, the nursery where Lily had begged for the life of her son.

The room was empty, but he shivered as he crossed the threshold into the room. The crib was at the far end of the door and above it, a papercraft mobile floated around an electric light, enchanted to spin like a spirit lantern. The figures therein would dance and spin for the delight of the occupant, throwing a prism of colored shadows of dancing fairytale shapes around the room It looked so familiar, but he just couldn't seem to put his finger on where he'd seen it before, and he was certain that it was probably irrelevant anyway.

The mobile had been knocked askew and the tinkling noise was coming from the figures attempting to move in their predetermined ways.

Pulling his black robes aside, Snape tried to grasp for his wand to repair it, but his wand wasn't in its usual fold.

A panicked fear tore through him, then. He felt a sharp gust of air enter the house as the lower entrance door ripped from its hinges. A startled cry came from downstairs and panicked footsteps pounded fearfully on the stairs.

The door tore open, and there was Lily, wide-eyed and full of terror. She was clinging to a small bundle wrapped in a blanket. A little, chubby hand dangled from it, little fingers searching to grab hold of something. Her eyes pleaded desperately with his.

He threw himself in front of the bedroom door, shutting it firmly behind him. There, at the bottom of the stairs was a snarling, feral-looking Voldemort.

"Ah, yes, Severus," he hissed, "You can make things easier, then. Just give me your child and it will be done quickly. There will be no pain."

"_What_ did you say?" Snape spoke slowly, but the sharpness in his voice betrayed his confusion.

"I don't care what you and that _muggle_ do, but I will have your child, and I will end it because you yourself brought me the prophecy that foretold it," Voldemort's mouth curled into a snarling semblance of a grin, "In fact, why not simply get to work on making another once I've taken what is mine?"

"But she-I-"

"Don't play games with me, Severus," Voldemort flicked the tip of his wand minutely and a picture frame flew up the stairs and slammed into Snape's chest, "That _is_ you, is it not? Dressed in that ridiculous muggle outfit."

Snape looked at the photo. There he was in some sort of suit, with an unpracticed, awkward smile standing next to Lily in some sort of white lace gown. He looked down at his hands and noticed the simple gold band on his left ring finger.

"But...I...we..." His brain couldn't comprehend it.

"I don't have time for idle chatter," the Dark Lord said, his eyes barely slits in his head, "Either you move aside so that I may get the child, or I will do so for you. Just because you have been a faithful servant does not mean that you cannot be….replaced..."

The monstrous man at the bottom of the stairs cracked his neck from side to side and rolled his shoulders in a slow practiced way. Snape just stood there uselessly, feeling frozen, his back leaned against the door to the bedroom in shock.

"I'll take that as an answer," Voldemort hissed, pointing his wand at Snape's chest and shouting, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

A green light tore through his sight and he felt himself being pulled from life to whatever lay beyond. Barely registering the feeling of dark robes whispering past his face, the sound of a door creaked open and the last words he could hear were Lily's broken sobs as she screamed, "Please, please, please, please, _please_!" over and over again.

He could feel himself rising from the depths of his dream, but even knowing that it would be futile, he clawed at the darkness around him trying to hold on, to go to her side once more.


	11. Chapter 11

**;) -(You guys know what this means...ehehehe...)**

**Chapter 11: The Girl Who Couldn't Say No**

"_Please,_" the whisper was insistently ragged and he knew it wasn't a dream. A weight lay across his chest as he slowly came back into his body.

His black eyes snapped open and he blinked harshly through sleep-filled blurriness. A reddish outline of hair framing a pale face peeked up from his bare chest, green eyes wide and hungry with desire.

"Please," she kissed his chest and the sensation of it made him quiver.

His voice caught in his throat. Lily was _safe_, here, with him, as though not even a moment had passed since they had fallen into a sexually sated sleep. He had no way of knowing how long had passed- he did not allow meddlesome paintings with prying eyes and wandering tongues or superfluous furniture in his secret room.

And when he realized she was laying naked across his own bare body, black cloak spread up to her thighs so that if he looked down her back, he could see the top of her milky arse peeking indulgently from the midnight black fabric, he gasped slightly as his body roared to life with desire for her.

"I'm still dreaming," he said, trying not to show any emotion in his carefully controlled quiet voice, even as he reached out to stroke a stray strand of coppery hair from her face.

"You were moaning," she said playfully, flicking at his nose. At the mention of the word, his arousal increased exponentially and he wished that he wasn't such an uptight bastard, so full of practiced control, even in the presence of what could only be a figment of his imagination.

"Oh, I see someone else has woken up as well," she said, slightly rolling to the side of him and sliding a finger on her right hand up the side of his now erect shaft and cracking that mischievous grin that warmed his head like summer sunshine.

"You probably shouldn't do that," he forced himself to reply with a slightly sarcastic tone, swallowing slowly, "You don't know what I am capable of."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I know what you're capable of," she half-closed her eyes and traced his lips with her left hand. She moved her thumb and fingers on her right hand into a circle that looked a little bit like the "OK" symbol and began sliding them from the tip of him until it bottomed out against his body and back again.

He closed his eyes, because he couldn't trust himself to say anything else, bringing his knees up and slightly pushing back against her grasp.

"Good boy, Sev," her smile came through in her voice and he imagined exactly how she looked, touching him his core.

She began to roll her wrist and quicken her pace, and he matched her breath by breath. With her left hand, she stroked his jawbone, running it down his neck and into the hollow area near between his collarbone and shoulder, where it lingered, softly caressing him along the hard line of his chest.

"Tell me," she purred quietly, "Tell me how much you want my mouth on you."

He grimaced, preventing a low moan from escaping his lips and tried his best at keeping a dispassionate tone, "Do you really need to ask me that?"

"Oh, so that's how it is, is it?" she giggled softly, and her hand stopped pumping back and forth abruptly.

He was so used to the movement at that point, that for few moments, he faintly thrust a little into her hand and a moan of horny frustration finally escaped him.

"Oh tsk tsk tsk," she said in mock concern, patting his lips with a finger as though wagging at him and then he felt her moving her body onto his and expected to feel her lips upon his own, but suddenly, a new sensation hit him and he couldn't help but moan in earnest.

His eyes snapped open and he beheld the rise and fall of her bare bottom in his face as she bobbed her mouth over his erect cock, sliding her tongue down the shaft as she took him in. She used one hand to steady herself, but the other gripped around the base of him, holding it in place. He had no idea where she would have learned such a thing, but he didn't care, after all, what is the use in demanding logic from a dream, hallucination or whatever…._this_….. was? All he cared about was the feeling of their bodies sliding together, creating a soft erotic friction.

She paused a moment and he took the opportunity to raise his hands and lay them on her arse cheeks, rubbing them and delighting in how full and firm they were at this angle. She flushed and turned around to look at him.

"You certainly _are_ full of surprises," she said, giving him a wicked grin and he reveled in her glee.

The last time he'd seen that grin was in their fifth year potions class when he found an improved workaround for a particularly complicated drought of _Ironwine Coagulus while partnered up with Lily in class_ and they had finished first in the class, receiving a hearty applause from Professor Slughorn and had been invited to a private "club" meeting later on that evening where Professor Slughorn treated them to a number of delectable sugared fruit treats bought for him by the Minister who'd just returned from holiday in the Bahamas as well as a walk through his rare personal ingredient storeroom.

The only thing that had happened that night other than a couple of knowing glances at one another as Slughorn had droned on about his famous friends was when their hands had brushed as they had both reached for some Elderwyld blooms to touch their silken petals at the exact same time. He felt that electric shock run through his body once again, and she had looked him full in the eye as Slughorn had obliviously rambled on and given him the same smile she was giving him now, full of silent heat and desire, just begging him to do _something_.

_Touch me, I dare you._

The silent command hung in the air, and she knew that he had heard it as clearly as if she'd spoken aloud. They'd known each other for so long that it was inevitable that they could read one another without speaking.

At the time, he'd been so awkward, so afraid, that he simply pulled his hand away quickly and mumbled an apology into the floor. The light in her eyes went out and her smile had faded into a polite grin, but the blaze on her face betrayed her, and he could barely look at her for the rest of the night because she'd stuck her tongue out _just so_ while making an offhanded comment about Braxus Nector and he knew she was telling him how she wanted to run her tongue up his neck. She pretended to suck on her lip as though in thought, but he really knew that she was simulating her lips locked against his, and it was so maddeningly arousing that he couldn't stop thinking about it long after he'd returned to his dorm. Every time she looked at him, it was a frustratingly pleasurable torture and she didn't even have to raise her wand. But he never could bring himself to do anything more and it had been only a couple short months later when he'd ruined everything forever.

'_But it's _not _too late. We have this now_,' he thought to himself, and pressed two fingers up against the heat of her labia, tracing the entrance of her sex softly as she moaned and moved back down to lick the head of his cock. He'd had enough time to play with her body while under the influence of Polyjuice to know that by simply twisting his fingers in to a "come hither" position and rubbing them against the inner walls of her pussy like _so_, that her body would most certainly respond favorably indeed.

He could feel her flexing and sucking the fingers inside of her with pleasure, almost with as much vigor as what her mouth was doing to him. It wasn't going to last for much longer, he thought, not at the rate with which simply hearing her lewd sucking noises were driving him crazy.

He could feel her heat pulsing more intensely now as he stroked his fingers inside of her with one hand and massaged one of her arsecheeks with the other. As she started to grind deeply into his hand, he abruptly pulled his hand away and grabbed her hips suddenly, her mouth popping off of his cock with an almost comical sound as she yelped in surprise.

He slid his hands up to her waist and rolled and twisted her body in his deceptively strong, lean arms until she was facing him, her face still frozen in surprise.

"Hello," he growled huskily.

"Hello yourself," she said, her face flushed, voice breathless.

As she sat on top of his stomach, he poked her ass with his throbbing erection and she giggled shyly at the lewd gesture.

"You did say last time that you wanted me to…..well….you know…" He had to look away from her, then, because he simply could not bring himself to say it.

She leaned down and kissed him then, allowing him to taste her mouth and the soft sweetness of her lips and he shivered against her touch.

"Why, Severus Snape, are you trying to tell me that you want to pump your hot come inside of me?" she slid back, and he felt the hot humid wetness of _her_ against him.

His face flushed red, then, which was quite the feat, seeing as he regularly looked as pale as though he had less than the recommended amount of blood in his body.

"Saying things like that," he panted, "You must really be a fantasy not to die of embarrassment."

She stuck out her tongue in a way that made his cock twitch remembering the feeling of it on his skin, "It's not embarrassing if that's how I feel. I don't spend my life quietly brooding like _you_, you know. It's never really been my thing."

His cheeks began to lighten as he gathered a bit of courage and finally said it:

"What about _this_ thing?"

"What are you-ahhhn!"

In one swift motion, he pulled his knees up and spread her ass cheeks wide with his long fingers, pushing the wet slit of her sex around and down to the hilt with his cock. Her hips moved twitchily as though involuntarily riding on the pleasure inside of her, and he curled his hands around her hips, fingers resting lightly on her ass, easing her up and down on top of him.

She was panting and her face was redder than ever, but she still smiled at him in a shy, secret way when his eyes met hers.

She was still smiling when his hips began to pump back against hers in earnest, holding onto her arse as leverage and she lay against his chest, breasts softly bouncing against his chest and whispering breathlessly to him to pump her full of his semen.

"I don't want one drop to be spilled," she moaned to him, and he moaned wordlessly in reply.

He wasn't sure he could stop his hips from sliding his cock back and forth inside of her, but he knew that neither of them wanted to stop as the heat and light built inside his head, as though the sun were rising inside of his skull.

"Oh, Sev," she said finally, when he didn't think he could hold out much longer, "I'm gonna….gonna..."

She never finished her sentence before she shuddered violently, her body pulsing on top of him with pleasure, and he too could not stop her pussy from milking his cock as he came hard and fast until he felt like he was completely dry inside, the head of his cock kissing her cervix and holding it all inside of her womb.

He lay perfectly flat with her straddled on top of him and she was absently kissing him softly on his chest, but it felt strangely far away. The silence was almost a roar in the absence of any sound beyond their own shallow breaths.

"Well?" She looked at him, finally, and ran her top lip over the bottom in an exaggerated look of innocence.

He met her gaze intensely and placed one long finger on her lips.

"Again," he panted and pulled her lips to his again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Old Scratch and the Dragon**

Draco was falling and falling through darkness, his eyes huge with fear as he fell. Out of nowhere, he abruptly froze in place, now suspended above a small and flickering image below him, one that kept coming closer to him like the headlight of an oncoming train. He felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu and gaped as everything came into sharper focus and a familiar scene unfolded in front of him.

The room was huge and dark, shadows swallowing the corners and giving off the illusion of a bowl-shaped space as a small enchanted light sat upon a small bedside table next to a severe, sharp angled four-postered bed slung with drawn dark velvet curtain on three sides. There were high, thin windows in the room, but the light from the moon outside only shone through in tiny slits that did not do anything to dispel the thick blanket of night. The sheets on the long, thin bed were such a dark green that they appeared black and in the gloom, the small boy sitting in the bed almost shone, his white-blond hair loose around his head and his eyes huge with a nervous fear.

Young Draco Malfoy would never tell anyone that he was terrified of the dark. He'd been taught better than to show his true feelings, even though he was only eight years old.

He slipped his fingers in through the slip of the pillowcase in a familiar way, stroking the remains of a small silk blanket, the one that his father had thrown in the fire the week before, stating that he was getting too old for such infantile things. It gave him a small modicum of a simpler sort of satisfaction, but it was short-lived as the tall door at the end of the room swung open with a slight creak and a shadow appeared holding something at its side.

Lucius Malfoy did not like reading bedtime stories, but his wife had insisted, and while he was a proud man, he also knew that there was no arguing with Narcissa when she got into a mood. The boy shrank back at the sight of his father's proud nose and stern, haughty eyes framed by long white-blond hair as he approached the bed. The boy's soft young features betrayed an underlying shadow of scorn, hinting the ease with which he would follow in his father's mannerisms if only to escape his wrath and his obsession with pure blood and status.

"Draco," the man acknowledged the boy, his voice curt as though speaking to a stranger.

"Sir," his voice turned hard in a way that a child of his age should not have known to use.

"Tonight," the older Malfoy continued with a serious glance at the book he carried, "We read an important story about-"

"Dragons?" the word escaped Draco's mouth before he had realized that he had wanted to say it. Dragons were his favorite creature, not simply because of his namesake but also because they were hedonistic, monstrous creatures with hearts full of formidable magic, long lives, tough hides that could rarely be penetrated by even the strongest weapon and wings to afford themselves soaring freedom in the skies. In short, they were everything that would protect and free him from the terror he felt from his father's wrath and disapproval. He wished he could strip his stupid, childish emotions away and drown himself in the instant delights of his favorite food and drink, the sweet whisper of power, the deference of his lessers in bowed hands to his greatness. He imagined himself, scaled and winged, breathing hellfire on his enemies and could not help but pull his lips up slightly in the ghost of a smile.

Lucius glared then, thinking the boy's expression was proof of some gleeful disobedience.

"One more outburst like that, and no Evenlight tonight I think," he smirked snidely, inclining his head towards the small lamp-like object glowing at the bedside table.

Draco's eyes went wide with a desperate fear and he shrunk back into his pillow silently.

"Now," his father continued, opening the book slowly, "Tonight's story is called '_Old Scratch and the Dragon._'"

"_There was a time in the distant past when dragons found it useful to speak the tongues of Man. For Man was prideful and proved an invaluable ally in doing the hard and thankless work of amassing the exact sorts of indulgences that even a young dragon could then snatch away with ease. A dragon can live for hundreds of years, its heart full of power but hard against superfluous emotion, its hide is stronger than diamond, and some say its fire can burn hotter than the flames of the Underworld. _

_The dragons considered themselves superior to all other forms of life in the world, and slew many innocents in their lust and greed for frivolity and wealth._

_There was a young boy who grew like a noble bloom amongst the rocks in the harsh land of the Wyrmking- a massive and ancient beast of great intelligence whom even other dragons feared. His father had been murdered before he could remember, his mother stolen with countless others in the surrounding to serve the massive creature in its mountain chambers, for the Wyrmking loved to relax in splendor and kept only the most beautiful consorts as his palace servants, devouring them once they had served their purpose. Orphaned and defenseless, the boy had been grudgingly raised by the tangled village that eked its meager existence through endless toil in service to their razor-toothed overlord. Some say that due to the tragic circumstances that had befallen him at such an early age, the earth itself had blessed him with its protection, and this is why the boy had the ability to bend the magical arts to his will. _

_His task of service to the Wyrmking was to tend to the personal gardens of the beast, as he had a particular talent for cultivating life even in the poorest soil. One day, when all was still other than the snores of the great creature as they gently shook the mountain, he stripped a small branch of Elderwood from the central tree in the king's garden and fashioned a wand to funnel his own power into word and deed._

_There was a girl, too, as there often is in tales like this._

_She too hailed from the village, her hair shining like the light on water, with a gentle heart that did not begrudge him for the tragic circumstances of his birth. Her smile was a flash of lightning, and it struck his heart._

_He was not a boy anymore, yet not quite a man. He had been sitting at her side in a grove of scented spring within the walls of the magical garden weaving petals from great magnolia blooms into the likeness of butterflies, sending them to her with a wave of his wand. Beating their whispery wings, they gently kissed her skin in a way that he could only long to do himself, for he was still ignorant in the ways of romantic love. Her laugh was musical and, in its own way a secret sort of magic, sweetly cast into the air around them._

_Without warning, the great smoke stirred around the mountain in a billowing ring. The Wyrmking had been awakened by that laugh as it carried on the crisp spring air, and it stirred the greed that lay within him, and he wanted nothing else but to possess whoever had uttered such a sound. The beast poured from his keep, blotting out the sun with his massive wings, claws and teeth glinting dangerously in the false twilight._

_The young man attempted to shield her using the magic of his wand, but the creature knocked him to the side, rending flesh with claw, removing his prize gently with a serpentine tail wrapped possessively around her fragile body. Being still young, the young man did not yet know the fear of death and in his foolish lust for revenge, he pointed his cracked wand at the creature and muttered the darkest curse he could imagine. The blast rebounded against the scales of the Wyrmking uselessly, striking him and he screamed in pain and rage and futility. The beast glanced back as though noticing an annoying insect and then with a sickening roar, turned its hellfire on the small figure still struggling to stand and fight._

_But that's not where the story ends, oh no._

_His wrath was like a lightening rod for the magic deeply running in a current within the earth, for nothing is more powerful than a sacrifice made out of love. The power harnessed the flames as they licked against his form, preventing him from crumbling to ash. As the magic infused his entire being, the deep red clay of the earthmagic that had infused his body also stained his skin a permanent deep and angry red. The raking claws across his chest and face faded magically into white-hot scars, his eyes burning like flame itself as he magicked the dragon's fire into his belly with a tongue as slick as molten gold._

_The magnolia tree had blackened into a gnarled dark shape behind him, but the magic had touched it as well. Instead of falling to ash at his touch, it had hardened into a substance as hard as black diamond. Summoning the power within him, he snapped a small branch, feeling the power of blackest rage fill him the wand claimed him._

_He took to the sky, then, free of wing, the heat in his heart burning terribly, following the shadow of his mortal enemy. The Wyrmking had retired to a massive throne room, a hoard of impossible size within the massive mountain. He had placed the girl in a crystal cage with a special high golden collar that amplified the sound of her tear-streaked song of sadness and loss, for she had seen her dearest childhood friend murdered simply because she had dared to translate her inner joy into sound._

_He knocked at the entrance of the throne room and entered without fear, servants gasping in fear at his shocking appearance. The Wyrmking was intrigued at the sight of the creature before him and asked him to sit at his table for supper, asking the peculiar visitor his name._

"_It's Scratch," the strange visitor replied graciously with a voice as soft as silk as he bowed deeply, and when he looked up, his eyes burned up at the massive slitted eyes of the beast, "Old Scratch, at your service."_

_The Wyrmking was charmed, never having been graced with such nonchalant and fearless regard. For as much as he relished being feared and afforded his every whim, it had also bred the seed of discontent at the ease with which he subjugated all those he set to control. He found, as the gracious stranger Old Scratch continued to entertain and converse with him, that he hadn't even known that he had been missing such meaningful company._

_As the evening wore on and food and drink were filled and refilled, the Wyrmking's eyes began to close in a warm and sated stupor, and when he was at his most vulnerable, Old Scratch proposed a wager._

"_As we all know, great kings such as yourself are the strongest and most powerful beings in existence. A lowly being such as myself is as nothing before your magnificent countenance. So you must forgive me for suggesting such a thing to you, as you are sure to best me within moments. Still, I wish to provide you with some fleeting entertainment and the opportunity to gain something precious and rare," The man's mouth grinned as he bowed low again, a soft puff of heat escaping his lips._

"_And what might you be proposing, Old Scratch?" The Wyrmking was intrigued as he grinned cunningly in return._

"_Well, you see, I have heard of the great magic known as dragonsong. I consider myself a bit of a musician myself and, while I have minute magical ability compared to yours, I would like to propose a duel. We shall both play our best song and whomever brings the other to tears first shall win the power of the other forevermore."_

_The dragon roared with laughter, for dragons are not known to to shed tears lightly, and began to reach for his wine, "And exactly what do you have that is remotely similar in value to all that I have amassed in my great hall?"_

"_I offer only my eternal servitude, my intimate and dizzying conversational skills, the endless novelty of my mind and meager powers for your amusement. For there is only one Old Scratch in this world," he flourished his hands from his sides, pulling his wand and spun orbs of wine from the king's carafe on the table into the air, changing them into the form of a flying dragon and guiding the liquid to the lips of the beast in a grandiose fashion._

_The Wyrmking, dazed with drink and utterly bemused by the unique curiosity of the small figure before him finally cracked a scaly smile._

"_I will agree to this proposal," he said, deeply, his voice rumbling the hall as he spoke, "But I must warn you, I shall not hold back simply because I find your company amusing. And I shall go first."_

"_Of course. I would not expect any less from a great being such as yourself," Old Scratch bowed and scraped, appearing more and more servile._

"_I look forward to adding you to my collection," the great dragon boomed greedily._

_The dragon beckoned to the girl in the cage and she fell silent._

"_You girl, you will mediate this duel," he said, "You will count to three and drop your silk handkerchief to begin the match. We shall both duel with our hearts in song and whomever brings the other to tears first shall be the victor."_

_She nodded wordlessly, and raised the handkerchief._

"_Know your foolishness, friend," the Wyrmking snarled deeply as the handkerchief dropped to the floor._

_The dragon reared up on his hind legs, speaking in an ancient, alien tongue, and power rolled over his scales, pulling the giant plates on his chest to either side, and revealing a massive ruby-red heart, the strings of which he ran heated breath over and vibrated like a harp across his breast. _

_A piercing, sorrowful sound filled the air, fiery and full of loss. The Wyrmking's heartstrings ran together in a complicated and sorrowful melody the thick string in the middle forming words that echoed deeply into the heart of everyone who could hear. His servants were unable to stop their tears from flowing, and even the girl in the crystal cage found her eyes stinging, though no tears fell._

_When the last note finally fell silent, Old Scratch clapped gently._

"_Well done," he congratulated the massive beast, "But I graciously request that I try my luck."_

_With a small flourish, he drew his black wand across his own chest and, with great effort, pulled out a deep red instrument with strings of its own. He brought the base of it to his chin and ran the wand over the strings like a bow, playing a wordless melody of such bittersweetness that the music itself seemed to cry out._

_Everyone who heard Old Scratch play that night remembered the lyrics differently, but all of them were reminded of the things that they'd lost and regretted the most. But it was the sound soaring above the stringed instrument, rising in intensity as it built towards a climax that pushed the impact of the music into an almost physical force. It was the high, clear sound of the girl in the crystal cage, her voice echoing and splitting into many facets like melancholy symphony of loss itself following each note that Old Scratch played._

_The great beast choked back a sob and great tears poured to the ground echoing wetly as Old Scratch finished drawing his wand over his instrument, and he nodded politely to the girl in the cage, bowing deeply to both of them._

_The great Wyrmking, with great effort, his eyes steaming as his tears evaporated, pulled back his scales, showing his heart in submission, and Old Scratch took the thickest, central string from the heart-lyre and placed it in the core of his midnight wand. With the string, he had taken the dragon's consciousness and from that day forward, it became a dumb beast for him to control as he desired._

_With his magic and using the remaining strings in the dragon's heart, Old Scratch fashioned wands from the trees in the royal garden. Each wand chose its partner from the many hundreds of former servants of the mountain castle, whose blood had been saturated with the power and purified by the magic of the earth from having lived in the mountain in the service of the Wyrmking for many long years. _

_For his bride, he took the girl with the shining hair, disappearing with her deep into the mountain, but legend has it that the sound of their eternal duet can still be heard on the wind by those who stop to listen when the spring winds blow. _

Lucius closed the book, running his hand through his hair in exasperation.

"Well then, Draco, why do you think I read you that story?" he said, allowing just a hint of warmth into his voice.

"I'm not sure, sir," Draco replied, looking a bit bewildered.

"This story is about how wizards and witches came into being. Only certain bloodlines can be traced back to the original magical people, and the more we dilute the power we gained by interbreeding with…._muggles_….the less powerful we become. Sure, some people can come from non-magical bloodlines and still use magic that they've somehow absorbed from the earth itself, but they will never be able to use it to the same end as you or I, which is why it is so important that we keep bloodlines pure."

"But what about the dragon?" Draco said, irritation seeping into his voice.

"The story simply goes to show that the power of a pure-blooded wizard will always trump that of mere beasts that think themselves equal, no matter how intelligent they may appear," Lucius replied evenly, and he placed the book on the end table next to the Evenlight.

But long after his father had left the room, Draco lay awake in his bed, rubbing the satin corner of his burned blanket between his fingers and wondering if his father had completely misunderstood the point of the story.

With a sharp intake of breath as though returning from a very long way away, Draco awoke in a cold sweat upon his still-made up bed. Something told him that the memory was important, but he couldn't figure out why. As much as he resented his father, he couldn't bear to imagine the horror of being locked up in Azkaban, so perhaps it was simply his foolish and sentimental mind playing tricks on him. His eyes burned with unshed tears and his stomach flipped with a sick lurch at the thought of what he had yet to accomplish. He was ashamed in his fear, but he still couldn't help it.

He reached into his pillow case and rubbed his fingers against a small, faded and partially burned corner of silk and soon dropped into a dreamless sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Dual Instincts**

Hermione had never been a big fan of alcohol, but she had, on occasions of particularly pervasive existential despair, taken a bit of liquor from her parents' oak cabinet and mixed it with some juice to block out some of the burn and sharp flavor. It loosened up her inhibitions in ways that she really didn't care much for, especially seeing as she was a fairly private person, and that went doubly so in matters of the heart, but sometimes it helped soften the edges of the angst she felt about never being good enough to be chosen by the one she loved. She'd make noncommittal noises when the other girls went on about boys in their dorm, but she was deeply uncomfortable with disclosing specifics.

She had always felt something strange for Ron Weasley. At first she simply thought it was a kind of irritating soft dislike, after all, they quarreled all the time, right from the beginning. But to some extent, it was also incredibly _fun_ to argue with him, even if both of their tempers flared and they ended up escalating things into an irritable silence until they could later smooth things over.

Very few people, even those as well-read and knowledgeable as herself, would even _attempt_ to discuss or debate anything with her, which was why she found Ron's hilarious flailing attempts absolutely enjoyable, after a fashion. The one thing she could say about him was that he was very authentic and wore his heart on his sleeve. Even though he wasn't the brainiest bloke, he certainly knew his own mind and had little trouble sharing it with others.

She wasn't sure when his presence first made her pulse quicken and a strange, tickling sensation flickered in her stomach whenever he got too close or brushed against her or simply met her gaze for longer than it took for her to worry if she was blushing or if he had somehow read her mind. For all her longing, he remained either willfully or unintentionally ignorant of how she felt, and she found herself gleaning a rise of guilty pleasure every time she said something biting to him after he said yet another obliviously hurtful thing to her, usually something about only just having noticed she was actually _female_ at all.

Hermione felt like she was at the bottom of a deep dark well. She kept feeling flashes of intense pleasure and confusion at where it was coming from. Her stomach was doing flips and for some reason, she simply could not focus on why.

Someone else was moving her body, and speaking in an unfamiliar voice. She kept hearing a familiar voice replying and...other noises...but she couldn't really place them, and this made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Hermione was not used to not knowing things. And if she found out that she didn't know something, it was not an exaggeration to say that she would scour the library until she found a book on the subject and if it were something practical (potions, charms, etc), she often did her best to take theory out of the pages and put it into practice. She wondered what the stranger in her body was practicing now.

She vaguely wondered what Ron and Harry were up to, if they even missed her. Sometimes she felt like every day she got a little bit older and a little bit further away from her two best friends. They were boys, after all, and they got to share boy secrets in the boy's dorms. She had grown closer to Ginny, especially after their tenure in the DA, but she was so used to being alone, not having many friends before Hogwarts, especially close female friends, that she often had trouble dissolving into girl talk or sharing the bitter and unsure pieces of herself. It made her too vulnerable, and she was so used to being made fun of or intentionally left out, even though she was highly skilled at magic and her socialization skills had improved during her correspondence with Victor over the past few summers, the trips to the turbulently lively Burrow and the solidarity she had shared with her fellow students in standing against that vile Umbridge woman.

The nagging feeling that she was forgetting something continued and she tried to piece together everything she knew. She had tasted something funny in the butterbeer that had been left on Harry's bedside table, that was certain. But what kind of "something" could it be? Her mind flashed to the image in the mirror of someone familiar..._greeneyes_...

But just as soon as she was able to grasp at the thought, it slipped away.

Just how long was she going to be trapped inside herself?

She thought back to Advanced Potions class and how the vast majority of potions, if that was what this was, brewed at the correct strength and dosed in the correct amount to suit the recommended weight of the intended recipient would last, at most, 24 hours. The freshness of the materials and dosage amount would obviously change things a bit one way or another, but the body was very efficient as processing items taken through the digestive system, so eventually, it would break down and she would be free.

'I only hope I haven't grown ears and a tail again,' she thought miserably, thinking of her horrible mistake from her second year at Hogwarts.

Time seemed to pass strangely in her mental prison. She honestly couldn't tell how long she'd been there. She could push up into her waking consciousness for moments of time, but the effort left her exhausted and each time she was swatted back down like a fly.

She began to hear a whisper, distant at first, and then she felt a cold hand on her shoulder, which was strange, because she knew, logically, that she didn't really have a physical body in her current state.

The girl who stood behind her brought back sudden grasps of memory: the door of gold leaf with a wide-eyed doe at its middle, the flavor of summer sweet grass on her tongue, the mirror's image changing, a sudden knowing and then...a frighteningly blank space that made her stomach quiver with a faint nausea.

"Hello, Hermione," the girl-no, _Lily Evans_-said softly, "I think it's time we had a little chat."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Sweetness Follows**

"How- how do you know my name?" Hermione was still feeling shocked at the realization that a younger version of Harry's dead mother was standing before her.

"For the same reason you know my name," Lily smiled gently and there was a hint of her son in that smile.

Hermione suddenly felt a stab of terror. Where had she seen this sort of thing before? It came to her in silent flickering memories, as though a screen to a projector had been placed before the two young women.

There was the diary of Tom Riddle under Harry's arm and then later, Hermione's first-person view of her mirror reflecting the eyes of a massive serpentine creature. Then there was the black diary, now gouged through with a massive fang, still wet with ink like a foul dead thing upon Dumbledore's desk.

Lily looked shocked, "I don't know what..._that _was_, _but I can assure you, I'm not evil...at least I don't think I am."

"_Well_?" Hermione had never had much in the way of tact and she wasn't going to start just because someone was giving her frightened looks, "Then what _exactly_ are you? You grew up, you had a family. My best friend..._Harry_..."

She looked up, tears shining in her eyes.

"You died! To protect him!"

Lily looked back, with a strange blankness in her eyes.

"I don't remember any of that," she said softly with her eyes down, "Who did I marry? What was my child like? You know, can't you tell me?"

Hermione thought for a moment and decided that it would do no harm to explain (at least to the best of her knowledge) what had happened.

"You're saying I married James? That I died when I was just barely 20?"

"How old are you..er...now, anyway?"

"Seventeen," Lily said, her voice barely audible, and then as though she had suddenly remembered something, "I'm so sorry about what I did, but I just couldn't help myself. I-"

"Wait, what?" Hermione was confused, and a cold feeling spread out in the pit of her stomach, but she couldn't remember why.

"We have a history," Lily looked miserable, "We both said some...things...we regret. We both were too proud to admit we were wrong, and-"

"Who _exactly are you referring to?" _Hermione had an expression on her face as though deep in thought, her brow furrowed.

"Isn't it obvious?" Lily's voice was plaintive.

"No. I require more information," Hermione crossed her arms, trying to look as stern as possible.

Lily sighed and rocked her hips as though shifting a heavy weight from one side to the other.

"You know, I think I'm going to have to show you," she said, her cheeks growing pink, "So take my hand for a second, ok?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Something tells me that this is how it works. _Please. _Trust me."

Allowing curiosity to override her better judgment, Hermione took the offered hand. It was cool and soft, not like what she imagined a dead hand would be at all.

And in that moment, an unsettling sensation ran through her whole body as though it were blinking out of existence, and she thought to herself that this was not how she had imagined dying, not before she could tell the boy she loved how she felt.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: What Was and What Always Will Be**

Hermione felt like she was floating.

_That's it_, she thought, _I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead._

"Why are you scrunching your face up like that?"

The voice to her left made her cry out in surprise.

"It's just me," Lily giggled goodnaturedly, and Hermione couldn't help but like her. The easy way she had about her reminded Hermione about Harry and she felt a pang of loss for him.

Lily didn't seem like anyone's mother at the moment, though, her youthful face lit up with excitement as she pirouetted in the air like a dandelion on the wind, her lithe body twisting with joy.

They were floating down gently from a high, cloudy bank, and she watched as homes and a river and some wild, sparse forest separated by brambles and hedges came into focus, growing closer with every breath.

Hermione wasn't afraid anymore, but she did have some silly thoughts about alighting on the sidewalk like Mary Poppins, carpetbag in one hand and parrot-head umbrella in the other. The thought made her blush when she imagined the stares she'd get.

Mercifully, they landed in a quiet playground, which was situated a short distance from the river. Close up, she saw that the river was more of a creek, its dusty edges butting up against a stony beach ride with brambly bushes.

"Lily!"

Both of them turned, hearing the voice calling her name.

It was a tall boy, gangly and sallow-faced, but with an unmistakable light in his eyes as he called out, raising his hand in the ghost of a wave as though he was afraid of being seen.

"He was thirteen here, I think," said Lily, frowning a bit as she thought back.

"Oh Sev! There you are!"

Another voice chirped happily from behind them, and a small girl who Hermione instantly recognized as a younger Lily, shorter and still far more childlike than the Lily standing next to her, came running like a bolt of excited energy towards him.

The boy looked very familiar to Hermione, but he was obviously not James Potter. She knew from the pictures in Harry's precious photo album that he looked almost the spitting image of his dad as a youth, and this boy bore almost no resemblance at all.

It didn't help that he looked as though he had pulled his clothing from a rag heap set out for donation. His mismatched clothing made him look even more awkward than he already would have been and the oversized shirt and trousers hung on him in a way that made him appear far more emaciated than he was.

It did look like he had tried some semblance of effort at matching his ensemble, trending towards darker clothing and as much black as possible. But all in all, he gave off the distinct impression that he was more of a patchwork made into the likeness of a boy instead of a single person.

Younger Lily hugged the boy tightly without pretense, and she didn't see him blush scarlet at the show of affection because he was a whole head taller than she was. He rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes, allowing just a hint of a smile to whisper over his lips before she pulled away and his face once again became unreadable.

"I hate summer," Younger Lily said as she released him, screwing her face into a faux pout, "All I want to do is practice magic and I'm not allowed to."

"Yet," he replied quietly, "In four years, you can use magic when the Trace breaks and you are considered an adult."

"Four years is forever," the girl exaggerated the length of the word until she ran out of breath and then turned and jumped up on a rock, balancing with her arms out.

"Well, there are ways to do magic without doing magic," he said slowly.

"Severus Snape, are you taking the piss?" Her eyes flashed as she enunciated his name syllable by syllable and he flinched a bit at the harsh turn of phrase.

It was Hermione's turn to stifle a gasp, even though the two people in front of her paid her no mind.

"That's...that's..." She pointed with a shaking finger as she met Lily's eyes.

"Yes," Lily said softly, almost a whisper, " We were...we _are_ childhood friends."

Hermione's stomach twisted like a snake was settling inside her. Suddenly she was far too aware of how personal this was. It was like accidentally catching a neighbor walking around in the nude from an adjoining window without them seeing. It was a secret that only one person held, because the alternative was unthinkable.

She looked back over at the pair, and saw that Young Lily had gotten closer to the young boy who would one day become Professor Snape and they were talking in low voices- Lily excited, Snape with a neutral expression as though he were wearing a mask. When Lily turned around for a moment to look out at the semi-stagnant creek, Hermione could see a naked hunger rise up in that pinched, pale face, and she had to glance away from its intensity.

"Are you sure we won't get in trouble?" Lily nibbled on the side of her bottom lip; a nervous habit.

Even though she was only just beginning to hit the telltale signs of puberty, young Lily had bitten her lip in the exact way that the Lily next to Hermione was doing to the point that they were almost mirror images of one another, and Hermione knew that this was the reason they were here, watching this memory.

"You know that there are things called Vows, right?" The boy was trying to look casual, but there was a slight waver in his voice.

"Yes, there are, but they require a third party with a wand to witness them, don't they?" Lily's tone was puzzled.

"No, look," he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment that had been folded in fourths.

"Sev, is that a page from a library book?!"

"All right. You got me. I snagged it from a book in the Restricted Section that I didn't have permission to look at. You happy? But here's the thing...what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I just...wow, I didn't think that you would..."

A flicker of fear passed behind his eyes, but then she smiled mischievously at him.

"I guess I'm a bit of a bad influence on you, huh, Sev?"

Hermione looked askance at her version of Lily, who looked at bit flustered and whispered, "Yeah, so I did something similar in my second year. I nicked the Polyjuice potion recipe out of one of the books...er...for a friend who got a bit of hair from the Wailing Gypsies lead singer and wanted to transform into her favorite pop artist for a night.

"Sev was my lookout but I didn't tell him what we were doing ahead of time and when he found out that I hadn't actually left my book bag with my homework in the library like I told him, he was pretty cross with me.

"Remember, this is the boy who practically thinks that books are better friends than people."

Hermione suddenly felt a pang of empathy for the young Snape. She knew exactly how often she had relied on books to handle her anxiety around her peers and to fill in the solitude from lacking skill at building friendships. And other than the magical book from Care of Magical Creatures (which was easily mollified as long as you stroked its spine prior to use), she had never been attacked by a book as viciously as her peers seemed born to do.

"So as I was saying," the boy in the memory was saying as Hermione forced herself to pay attention, "There is a Vow that can be done without a wand and it's also really useful. Basically, the name roughly translated means "Soul Sharing Vow."

"The _Anima Voti_," Hermione gasped. It was incredibly obscure and potentially dangerous, but she had remembered reading about it in one of the advanced magical theory books her mother had purchased for her by owl for her birthday.

"What is it?" Younger Lily asked, obviously intrigued.

"Well, you know how Merlin used to oversee Arthur and his knights of the Round Table?" Snape's dark eyes glittered as he said it.

Merlin, one of the greatest and well known wizards in history, was rumored to have been a Slytherin. Hermione guessed that he probably felt pretty important to be suggesting something Merlin himself had invented.

"Well," he continued, "back in those days, Arthur's knights, who were mostly muggleborn and had no magic of their own were not able to communicate in an...expedient manner."

He paused and smirked a little at how Lily was practically vibrating with curiosity.

"The Soul Sharing Vow, also known as the _Anima Voti_ allows all who make it to share certain...things...without the usage of spells or owls," He suddenly smiled in a way that relaxed the muscles in his forehead, and for moment he was not pinched and bitter looking like a shadow of the face that was to come as he aged.

"What sort of things?" The shorter girl looked up into his eyes without fear or apprehension.

"Well, for starters, you can communicate instantly to some degree between one another. You just have to think a location hard enough and the other person will know where you are. You can also communicate emotions, such as pain or happiness, even lend your own strength to another member if they were in peril. This was very useful for alerting members of the Round Table if one of their own was in trouble and could sometimes even tip the scales in a fight with a stronger opponent," he finished and went silent, his eyes searching hers and color rising into his cheeks as she blinked slowly and returned his gaze.

"So we could be...like our own secret club?" Her green eyes sparkled with a childlike glee and Hermione was almost unable to breathe because she knew what was going to happen next, but she didn't know how. Her book had only mentioned the Vow as a historical anecdote, but she was curious to see it in action.

"I was hoping you would want to at least try, as long as you don't mind that it's me," he breathed quietly.

"You were my first magical friend, Sev," the younger Lily smiled gently and he shivered almost imperceptibly with delight, "You helped me accept my abilities as gifts instead of something I should be ashamed about. With you, I can be more me, you know?"

His eyes softened around the edges when she looked away, remembering before.

"If you want, we could do it today, if you really want to try," he said softly, and Hermione's heart ached with empathy. She knew that tone of voice, she'd heard it come from her own mouth several times in the rare moments she found herself alone and not at odds with Ron.

"Do you think it might be...slightly advanced for us to do?" There was that nervous lip biting thing again and the boy Snape gently placed his hand under the left side of her jaw, lifting her face up to his.

"It will either work or it won't. I would never allow harm to come to you," he said gently.

"Spoken like a true Knight of the Round Table," she giggled, and he tried to grin back at her but it came out looking more strangled and painful.

He unfolded the paper slowly, and she pulled herself flush against his side, ignoring how her touch made his face rise in color until he was blushing scarlet, to read the writing on the page.

_**"Three hairs from each body to bind to this Vow,**_

_**Three memories shared from beginning to now,**_

_**Three minutes passed holding hands at the wrists.**_

_**Speak the vow to each other and seal with a kiss."**_

"It seems...straightforward," he said, suddenly staring with a pointed fixation at a tree near the river.

"What are you looking at, Sev?" Her tone was mystified as she tried to figure out what he was staring at with such intensity.

"Nothing," he muttered, "Just needed...to calm myself."

They sat down cross-legged, facing each other. Both of their faces were focused and calm now, cheerful banter and awkward glances set aside. It was as though they were the only two beings in the world.

Even though she knew this was just a memory, Hermione could smell the magic in the air. It buzzed in her hair like static. She breathed slowly in through her nose and caught the scent of it inside of her, as intoxicating and delicious as a favorite food.

The sound of the insects in the long dry grasses near the riverbank went silent. The magic here was old, but still powerful.

Young Lily plucked three hairs carefully with small breaths as she carefully dislodged them from the root. Young Snape did the same, though he showed no sign of having been pained by the efforts. They bundled each together, then twisted the black and the copper hair together as though making a thin strand of rope, tying the ends in a half hitch knot. They clasped each other's wrists gently with their fingers, and with her free hand Lily wrapped the hair around the middle where their palms met.

"Three shared memories," he murmured, deep in concentration, "Then three minutes before we speak together."

"Sev, you keep time," she said, her voice almost a song. He nodded in reply.

"Beginning, beginning," he said, "Yes. I have it. Meeting you in this place. Remember the flower?"

"And that smock," Lily said, and hearing the boy snort in reply, added, "And your smile."

"Your turn."

"Middle...mmmm...middle," she hummed a little in her thoughts, "Potions class with Slughorn."

"That time we accidentally made a sixth year level draught in second year and Slughorn almost ate his hat with delight," he grinned, eyes still closed.

"Oh naughty naughty Sev, using your mother's advanced potions textbook, but then again, I didn't stop you."

"Now," he said, "Your smile when you saw me today. Your shiny hair with a small braid on one side. You hugging me even though I'm so awkward and ugly."

"You're not ugly," she replied, opening her eyes slightly, "You're my best friend."

He shuddered at her words, scrunching his eyes together more tightly than before.

"Do you mean that?"

"Always," her voice was a whisper.

The air around the two seemed to shimmer as though they were surrounded by a massive heat mirage.

"It is time," he said gently, "Are you sure?"

"Which one of us was the one who wanted to try unTraceable magic?"

"I'll take that as a yes," and then he smiled in a rare, genuine way that seemed wholly out of place in his bitter face.

They looked at each other, nodded slightly in in unison and together they shouted "_Anima Voti_!"

The power roared around them, like a fire doused with petrol, blowing an invisible wind around their bodies and whipping their hair around violently.

"There's one part left," his voice was uneven as he tried to work himself up to say it.

"A kiss….." her voice was light and dreamy, as though in a daze.

She pushed herself forward until she had all but climbed into his lap, her face pointed up towards his. His chest was visibly heaving as he breathed in her scent, and his face was so scarlet now that it almost appeared that he was holding his breath were it not for the sound of his breaths coming raggedly from his mouth. She reached up and touched his chin tenderly, and pressed her lips to his softly as he awkwardly lifted his arms as though to hug her but then dropped them as though he had been knocked unconscious the second she kissed him. The kiss lasted for a long moment and the world seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Then the strange shimmering haze pulsed once, taking on a light green tinge, and shot outward from them like a shockwave.

"Did it work?" The younger version of Lily pulled herself up onto her knees and looked around like a meerkat.

"Not sure. Do you feel different?" he tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice quivered and his breathing was still ragged.

"I...I think so," her eyes narrowed and she scrunched up her face.

"What exactly are you doing? You look like you're in pain," his voice was slightly tinged with concern, and maybe just a hint of guilt.

"Calling all Severuses, Calling all Severuses," the girl skipped exuberantly around him as he stood unmoving, his face unreadable again, "Can you hear what I'm thinking to you on Channel Sev-en?"

He raised his index finger, pressed it to his temple and closed his eyes in concentration.

"You're thinking...about iced tea?" he said in a puzzled tone of voice.

"Sort of," she looked shyly at him for the first time, "It's just….I'm feeling really warm out here and...and I want you to come home and have something cold to drink with me and relax in the living room and just watch the telly and stuff. Like normal kids. Like we're taking a break from magic and dungeons and flobberworm excrement."

"And here I was, thinking you wanted to practice a bunch of magic and cause a giant headache for the Ministry of Magic," he raised an eyebrow at her even as a corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a shy smile of his own.

"Oh you!" she slapped his arm lightly in a goodnatured sort of way, "C'mon Sev, before Petunia gets home from Barb's house and I have to sit there and listen to her prattle on about the horrid things that she enjoys and the horrid people that she thinks are so amaaaaazing. Besides, Dad's at work all day today and Mum's off at the grocers, so we'll be able to have our first Super Secret Club of Secrecy meeting."

"I'm not calling it that," he replied, smirking.

"Oh, really? Well why don't YOU come up with a name if you're such a high and mighty thespian!" she retorted.

"Is that an order?" the smirk widened.

"You betcha!" she skipped ahead of him, daring him to race her, "After all, it's quite obvious that I'm the Fearless Leader here! So you'd better follow me to the ends of the earth, Sev, or I'll never forgive you!"

Younger Lily raced ahead of him into a mist of memory as everything began to grow hazy and colorless, so Hermione and the older Lily were the only ones to hear him as he trailed behind her, hands in his pockets.

"_Always_," he whispered, and his tall frame slouched over as though in a practiced attempt to take up as little visual space as possible as he followed her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Dumbledore's Chess Pieces**

Severus Snape would never describe himself as a happy man. There was too much suffering in his past for him to have developed anything beyond a vague sense of foreboding that any small pleasure he allowed himself to feel would be wrenched away painfully and without warning.

Part of him knew that his obsessive love for Lily was partially strengthened by the fact that before this last...however long it had been, but then he realized with a guilty shiver that he didn't care how long it _had_ been...she had been safely tucked in his past where she couldn't disappoint him or let him down. He had a tight control over her memory that made her special and untouchable to further pain. But he couldn't lie to himself. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was going (how would the youngest Weasley boy put it?) "mental," he almost didn't mind.

_She was real. Warm. Safe. At his side. Now. _

As for all the spying, lying and secrecy, the thought of continuing on the way he had before made him feel weary beyond belief. He simply wanted to freeze himself in time with her scent, the feeling of her breathing evenly against him, her skin so warm and soft against his own. As he watched her sleep, running his hand lightly over her hair and down her back until it rested at the base of her spine in a possessive yet tender gesture, he made a decision that he knew was all wrong.

But things had changed. The old man had to know that he wasn't going to play the martyred lap dog to the Dark Lord anymore. He refused to be pulled into machinations larger than himself, plans that may or may not involve the sacrifice of his own life just as he finally found some beauty and happiness in his bitterly lonely life.

_And pleasure..._

His body grew hot, remembering how many times she had met his lips, the movement of his body against hers, the feeling of himself grinding deeply into the core of her, pouring himself dry as she begged him to do it and called out his name in pleasure.

_I have to do this. For her. For us. _

It was physically painful to pull himself from her side. He dressed quietly, leaving his cloak over her sleeping form like a makeshift blanket, hoping against hope that she would be there when he returned, that she wasn't some delusion that would evaporate the moment he set foot outside the door. He could not bear to wake her, but he kissed her forehead softly and felt his resolve intensify as she wiggled her nose in a particularly endearing way at the touch of his lips, before pulling himself up to his full imposing height.

Staring down at her, he knew that regardless of what happened next, he couldn't continue letting Albus take advantage of his pain. Lily wasn't a chess piece. And his heart suddenly went cold thinking about how, only 16 years ago, Lily _had_ been treated as little more than a piece in a larger endgame strategy, only useful as a sacrifice to avoid a checkmate.

His eyes hardened and his mouth turned down at the corners in a comfortable, well-practiced grimace. Wordlessly, he called for his wand, and it flew to him, rattling temporarily as it dislodged itself from behind the bureau. He didn't remember putting it on the table section of the bureau but there were more important things to think about.

_Lily._

He turned away from her reluctantly, placing wards on the door as he left so that she would not leave while he was away.

_So she will be safe. _

The gold designs drained from the wooden door as he pointed his wand against the grain.

It was only when he had reached the outer hallway, only pausing to place his forehead against the door to his office to fight the urge to run back to her side, to spoon his body against hers and indulge in her until he lost consciousness only to wake up and continue to do so indefinitely, that he allowed his eyes to burn with anger and his voice was a cold drone as the name hissed through his teeth like a curse.

"Albus."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: The Hidden Hidden Passage**

Draco hated waiting. The Great Hall had almost completely emptied of people from the evening meal, but Crabbe and Goyle were probably still shoving the last bits of roast duck down their greedy gullets. He hoped they'd choke on a stray bone. It would serve them right.

He wouldn't call what he was doing "skulking" (because, as his father would remind him regularly, "Malfoys are _above_ skulking"), but he was also running out of reasons to hang back in the corridor nearest to the Great Hall so he could snag his lackeys, who had been avoiding him ever since he'd exploded at them the night before. And if he had to run into the loo to avoid Filch or Mrs. Norris one more time, people were going to start thinking he had a shy bladder, and it was bad enough that he had spent most of his day lurking under the covers of his bed in a gloomy nightmarish haze. Draco did not wish to be the subject of any idle gossip that might get back to the Dark Lord that would hint that he was anything but ruthless and capable.

He almost ran into a couple of second year Ravenclaw girls who giggled and whispered when they saw him as he tried to duck around the corner, hearing the curious "_mrrr?"_ that signaled Mrs. Norris's eminent approach. He couldn't focus as his mind kept drifting to the fifth floor and the object safely tucked away in the Room of Requirement. He knew he needed to start working on it again, but he was not about to do so without having his favorite cronies playing lookout. He knew that at the very least they knew how to stand around looking useless.

_And besides_, he thought, his mouth curling into a nasty smirk, _they both needed to pay the price for being such dolts before_.

Potter and his pals hadn't seemed even slightly affected by the _AbsoluteAmortentia_ ("guaranteed obsessive lust proven to stir the wand of your choice or your money back!") potion he'd nicked from the back section of that blasted shop those Weasley twins had opened and other than the distinct lack of that bushy haired Mudblood girl, who had probably just fallen into a book and couldn't get out, (he smiled darkly, imagining that horrid biting book from his third year eating Granger's face), the Saturday had passed almost uneventfully.

The only thing that Draco felt pretty good about was that he had pretty successfully avoided Snape all day, even though it wasn't _so_ difficult on weekends. While professors were required to sit at the head table during the school week, weekends were a more subdued affair and meal times were more flexible, so many of the more antisocial teachers simply took meals in their rooms.

_And if any of the professors could be considered anti-social, it would be Snape_, Draco thought wryly, wishing the worst upon the great greasy git.

After waiting another twenty minutes, he realized that they had either snuck past him (which was a laughable idea, considering that they were such brainless clods), or figured out some way to stay in the Great Hall even once the food had been magicked away. For all he knew, they'd tried to get detention with McGonagall just to avoid having to look Draco in the eye.

"_Morons_," he hissed, trying to push down the lonely roar that was building in his stomach with anger and irritation, "Bloody _useless_ morons, that's what they are."

He stalked down the hall with purpose, then, until he found himself in the dungeons once more.

His white-blond hair reflected off the torches in the main dungeon hallway as his footsteps echoed off the stone walls. There were no paintings this far down in the castle, as the occupants complained of the dampness, cold and mold that would inevitably eat their precious canvas. And besides, no self-respecting Slytherin would want a dumb old painting eavesdropping on themselves anyway. Soon, Draco came to the plain stone wall that concealed the Slytherin common room behind it and, seeing no other students, he continued on past until he was deep in a part of the many unused dungeons where the torches no longer lit the hallways.

Not missing a beat, he pulled an object from his robes. The Hand of Glory allowed him to see clearly as he continued down the hallway, further and further from the flickering torch lights behind him. The temperature dropped and puffs of breath issued in front of him, but he wasn't shivering from the cold. His eyes were steely gray and expressionless, but his hand quivered as he continued on. At last, he reached an old and obviously disused stone stairway, one side spiraling upwards and the other down. Without missing a step, he went down, stepping smoothly over a chain with an old metal sign, which read "dead end below, no admittance."

Finally, after some time descending the narrow stone stairway and a moment of terror when his foot slipped and he scrabbled desperately against a slimy, moss-covered wall with one hand while trying to hold onto the Hand of Glory with the other, he reached the bottom. A wide, metal grate stretched across the small landing. Looking closely down into it, Draco could see a small imprint of a snake's head etched into the center.

He inhaled sharply and fiddled at his collar, unbuttoning the top part of his shirt and slipping his fingers underneath. Finally, he pulled a small locket from around his neck and gently pulled at the clasp to open it. A small fresco of a snake on the inside of the locket looked out, its ruby eyes glittering.

He bent down towards the grate, whispering, "_Toujours Pur,_" and the ruby eyes began to glow, pouring light into the eyeholes of its twin in the floor. The grate didn't open. Draco didn't seem perturbed, though, and stepped his foot gently onto the grate, not appearing even slightly surprised when his foot went through it. He stepped carefully through the grate and into the dark beyond.

_Someone_ was going to bear the brunt of his frustration tonight, and if it wasn't going to be Crabbe and Goyle, he knew exactly who would have to do instead. Besides, he'd have to at least do _something_ to make it look like he had a plan if he couldn't repair the….item….up on the top floor.

Another current of nauseous terror randomly shot through his chest as the air started to change in the passage. He was always afraid, now. He tried to push it deep down, just like his Auntie Bella had taught him during the summer break, but it always roared back to life whenever he had a moment alone when he knew that there would be no one around to bother him and he could finally let down his guard for a moment. Feelings were such inconvenient things- maybe if he could find some way to remove them he could make his father proud and keep his mother from harm, and stop quivering all over the damn place while he did it.

Draco was glad that it was dark as he strode down the passageway towards Hogsmeade. He didn't want anyone to see waves of conflicting emotion twitching over his face.


	18. Chapter 18

**;) You know the drill. Oh Draco, Draco, what sort of shenanigans are you getting up to?**

**Chapter 18 The Dragon and the Rose**

The light was dim at first, but it grew brighter as Draco stalked speedily along bent over with his head down, hands in his pockets, his lanky legs marching along to the beat of his frantically beating heart. The stone passageway widened gradually and he was able to stand up straight as he reached another grate. He pulled out the locket again, repeated the cryptic phrase just as he had before and pulled himself through the grate as though he were as insubstantial as a ghost.

The room that he pulled himself up into was lit by small, bewitched orbs of light that cast gaunt shadows off of the many wooden barrels that filled the space around him. He knew that the orbs were in use because torches would increase the temperature of the casks of wine, butterbeer and other assorted comestibles that were stored down in the cool basement where he stood.

Taking a step without looking, he knocked over an empty glass bottle, which clanked loudly against another bottle that knocked over and shattered loudly on the floor. He cursed loudly, and it only exacerbated the commotion.

He heard a creak as a trapdoor opened above him and the outline of a figure filled the space behind it.

"What are you doing down there?" a female voice said, the shadow thrown against the wall putting its hands on its hips.

"Oh, right," Draco said absentmindedly as though he was speaking to himself, "I should probably freshen it up."

"What are you talking about? _TheThree Broomsticks_ is closed," the voice was confused, and he could hear footsteps creaking down the stairs.

Draco turned and got an eyeful of the low-cut top and massive cleavage belonging to Madam Rosmerta. Her eyes came into view not long after, and they were narrowed in confusion.

"Hello Rosmerta," Draco said, smiling a little viciously, "I haven't seen you in awhile."

"Wha-?"

"_Imperio,_" he cast the spell before she could even finish the word.

A strange, drunken look came upon her face, and her green eyes widened in a glassy stare.

"Come here. I gotta test it," he said shortly, and she obliged, shuffling unsteadily on her feet towards him.

He motioned for her to stop when she was within inches of him, and he placed his wand casually in his back pocket. She stood there, giving him the same bug-eyed stare as before, and without another word, he grabbed her tight, curve-revealing button-down shirt and pulled harshly, buttons flying to the floor as he thrust his hand into her ample cleavage underneath. He teased at her nipples with his fingers and smirked as a moan escaped from deep within her in response to his ministrations but she still stood frozen as he had not motioned for her to move again. He found one of the shoulder straps of her bra poking out of the neckline of the ruined shirt and pulled it down to the side of her arm.

"Come, Rosmerta," he said wolfishly and pulled her by the strap up the stairs. She bobbed along behind him, her mouth plastered into a sickly painted smile.

The pub itself was dark, save for the light in the kitchen, which is where the door to the cellar was located. After extinguishing the downstairs lights so as not to arouse any suspicions, Draco illuminated the tip of his wand and made his way through the kitchen. As it was already quite dark outside, Draco pulled the befuddled barmaid up the stairs at the back of the kitchen to her living quarters, which were situated over her place of business.

The room was simple but comfortable, just like the pub below. The walls were accented with velour curtains, which were drawn to keep the cold from seeping in through the windows at night. Her bed had light, gauzy hangings around the sides, but they were drawn up, showing a rich purple satin bedspread and some surprisingly girly-looking fuchsia throw pillows.

A couple of chairs, a simple table and a little side room with a claw-footed tub, shower-head, sink and toilet were easily viewable as they entered the room, and Draco sat on the bed, almost forgetting that he was pulling someone with him. He yelped a little bit when she twisted around and sank onto his lap, her breasts against his face. She wrapped her arms around him slowly, as though she were reaching through a dream, and he snuggled his face into her cleavage. For some reason, he felt a little comforted. It was like being a child again and snuggling against his mother when he was feeling hopeless and alone, even though she was nearly as..._remarkably endowed_.

Something hot shuddered within him, and the fear that had been licking at his heels since he had entered the underground tunnel earlier simply fell away into a dreamy haze.

He leaned his head back and her eyes followed him.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

She obliged and her mouth tasted hot and spicy like the firewhiskey she served below. His hands went to her breasts again, one hand reaching behind her back under the ripped shirt and unhooked the bra she was wearing. Thank goodness she hadn't placed a Sticking charm on the clasp- he was sure he wasn't the first person who had gotten fresh with her, especially during business hours. It made him feel a bit tingly in his toes, and he suddenly became quite noticeably aware that his pants had become far too tight for his liking.

He smirked. She'd be sure to take care of that as long as he told her what to do.

"Rosmerta," he said, stifling a rude laugh, "Look at what your lewd breasts have done to my poor, pure-blooded cock. You had better take care of it with the full service."

The woman blinked blearily and slid off of his lap, sitting on her knees in front of him and fumbled with his trousers and boxers until his erection popped free of his shorts. She stared at it a bit like a charmed snake, and then dipped her mouth over it in earnest, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat as she took him all the way to the back of her throat.

She slid back and forth over him, sucking gently and then with more vigor, as he grabbed her hair and twined his fingers around it, pushing her head deeper from time to time and relishing how she gagged slightly but still took it deeper.

"Yeah, that's it," he said, his voice breaking slightly and going a bit shrill like it always did when he felt overwhelmed. His brain was swimming with chunks of thought, but nothing cemented into the forefront of his mind while he focused on the wet heat snaking through his whole body in electric pulses of pleasure. Rosmerta grabbed the base of his shaft and added some pressure with her hand while continuing her oral attentions to the rest of him. He didn't know where she had learned this, but he knew that he was reaping the benefit of her obvious experience.

The way that she was pumping and twisting her wrist around the end of him as her hot mouth sucked and rolled back and forth was almost too much for him to bear. Part of him was embarrassed at his lack of stamina, but the other, in the voice of his father, reminded him that slags like this deserved to be used like this so what of it if he didn't give her enough time to get off on it herself?

He looked down at her with half-closed eyes and saw her own loopy gaze staring right back at him, even as her mouth and hands worked at incredible speeds to meet his demand. He couldn't help but feel generous, and he tried to tell himself that he wasn't just doing this because he knew it would piss off his father.

"Rosmerta," he said, tongue thick with lusty thoughts, "You're going to soak your knickers right now."

She moaned and the vibrations ran over his cock like a delicious wave. He knew that her body had responded per the curse he'd placed upon her. She couldn't help it.

He used one foot to rub her between her legs. Sure enough, his bare feet touched a warm wet pair of panties, and she shivered at his touch. Her ass twitched and she rubbed back against his foot with pleasure.

"Rosmerta," he said with great difficulty, as he was getting very close to the point of no return, "When I come, so will you."

She moaned again, and he felt his testicles twitch, readying themselves.

"Aw, fuck," he mewled, his voice jumping up an octave, and his hips pumped hard against her mouth as he shot jets of semen up against her throat. As though on cue, she shuddered and groaned as her own orgasm tore through her body.

He collapsed back onto the bed, his legs limp, and she kept him in her mouth, licking him gently for awhile until it became annoying.

"Ok, now clean up every drop and then you can stop," he growled, utterly spent.

"Yes Draco," she said at last, as she finished, and her voice sounded strangely normal, even though he made sure to check her face for the blank stare that remained upon it.

"Now go get me some firewhiskey," he ordered, "I don't want to be kept waiting."

"As you wish," she said absentmindedly, and shuffled off down the stairs.

Draco thought about how simple it was to use the Unforgivable Curses; how much easier his life was when he could use them to his liking. He only had to Imperius Rosmerta about once every couple of days to keep her under his full control. Sure, she had some semblance of her "self" left whenever he wasn't actively ordering her about, but that was the beauty of the Imperius Curse. When not being directly ordered, the person just kept going about their business as they normally would, and it was very easy to make them look like they were harmless and normal.

These evenings when he'd visit _The Three Broomsticks _were some of the only times he ever felt he could cut loose just a little bit, and under the Imperius Curse, Rosmerta had been nothing but accommodating to his desires. He'd bound her, whipped her with his belt while she cried for more, and had made use of every orifice she had at her disposal, often while entreating her to squeal like a pig in heat the entire time. And she had obliged, oh how she had obliged.

He wasn't sure if she'd be like this without the magic, but frankly, he didn't care all that much. His "girlfriend," Pansy, barely had any breasts to speak of, but at least she helped him keep up appearances as a proper pure-blooded "match," which meant that sex was off the table, besides perhaps for honoring breeding purposes. Besides, there was no way that he was going to get into a relationship with a woman who could be his mother and worry about someone possibly finding out. No, this was cleaner, easier and more fun. It was like having a living doll with great tits and an ass that goes on forever that he could use however and whenever he wanted. The Dark Lord had told him that he'd be able to do this sort of thing as much as he wanted to once things finally changed. After all, just because lesser beings weren't good for anything proper didn't mean that they weren't good cumdumpsters or servants. Draco imagined living in a home full of older witches who kept their figures like Rosmerta's, dressed in all manner of outrageously sexy attire. Their eyes could shine like empty dolls and he could make them do anything he wanted them to do. They'd feed him, bathe him, fuck him, fuck each other while he watched. He could be a god- a dragon king just like that story his father had told him all those years ago. Because he would have power, and they would be wandless. Their wills would be as nothing next to his.

He ran his fingers over the locket his mother had given him that summer. His father had received them from the Dark Lord long ago as a method of spying on Dumbledore in his last year at Hogwarts, and obviously had kept the objects in his personal collection even after Voldemort had fallen the first time. Of course, Lucius was probably an even bigger hedonist than Draco, and he had given the locket to his girlfriend Narcissa the next year so that she could sneak out to Hogsmeade and have all manner of sexual liaisons with him at the Hog's Head Inn. Only the person wearing the locket could faze through the grates, which is why it wouldn't have worked to flood Hogwarts with Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord had seemingly forgotten that such a useful locket even existed anyway. Draco wasn't about to remind him, either. The less he had to look into those creepy red eyes, the better.

His reverie was broken by the return of Rosmerta with a long carafe of the requested spirits.

"Come, Rosmerta," he said, linking his fingers and pressing his forefingers together as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees in a pensive gesture, "I think after this, I'll be ready for round two. I'll be requiring you to get all manner of naughty tonight, you know. And I want you to _savor it_."

She shivered, even as her eyes continued to look glazed and unfocused, and after she set the firewhiskey down on the table, she promptly reached under her skirt and pulled her soaked panties off, handing them to Draco haltingly as though she were a wind up toy with a key running down.

He took them and inhaled the rich scent, placing them in his pocket like a trophy for later.

"Good girl," he said and his lips pulled up in a triumphant, haughty smirk.

It was times like this that he fucking loved being a Death Eater.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Deliberate Mistakes**

Hermione felt as though she was swimming up from a great depth. Her lungs screamed to breathe and her eyes were blinded by the flashes of bright light ahead of her as she shot up like a cork through the darkness. Just as she thought her lungs would burst, she found herself breathing raggedly and opened her eyes- her _real_ eyes.

She brought her hands to her face, running them through the familiar snarled brown hair that she knew to be her own. Her face felt fine, and her hands seemed to be hers- still sun-kissed from the summer holiday. Her brain felt strangely clearer than she had felt in, well, a long time. She felt like she'd been sleeping forever and her body ached all over, especially in an unfamiliar place where she'd never quite experienced _that_ sort of fatigue before.

She drew her knees up to her chin, noticing that she was still semi-covered in a black blanket.

_No, wait. Not a blanket._

It was a robe of some sort. Incredibly dark, almost to the point of absorbing the light around it. It looked uncomfortable and scratchy, but against her skin it felt heavenly soft. Especially since she appeared to be naked. At the realization, Hermione flushed scarlet and she was glad that the lighting in the room was dim enough to help her feel a little less exposed than she otherwise might be feeling.

She detected a scent on the cloth as she pulled it around herself, and a heat rose up within her that made her feel euphoric. Snatches of memories prickled hotly in her chest and she ached and throbbed inside, though not in an unpleasant manner. To be honest, part of her wanted to slide her fingers inside of herself and work away at releasing the maddening sexual pressure that had begun to build inside of her again.

_Hermione._

It was like a sigh in her left ear. She whipped around.

"Lily?" her voice seemed stifled in the tiny room.

_I'm here, Hermione. You can't see me, but I'm here._

She stood up, remembering the vanity and the mirror. The reflection showed the slim, pale girl with red hair and green eyes looking sadly back at her. Doing a double-take at the image in front of her, Hermione looked down at her own hands and realized that they were still her own. Somehow, the mirror was reflecting something other than her actual appearance. She sat down on the cold wooden chair, noticing that she felt really wet and messy again between her legs. It was embarrassing. She couldn't remember why this would be the case. Her "monthly curse" wasn't set to start for another week or so anyway, and there were charms to deal with that.

_Hermione._

The voice was like a humming echo.

"Lily, I can hear you," she said into the reflection, and the reflection smiled gently.

_Hermione, you mustn't freak out._

"Why are you telling me not to freak out? You do know that the first thing people do when someone says 'don't freak out' is to freak out, right?" Hermione's voice began to take on that know-it-all tone because she was starting to feel nervous and it soothed her to sound like an encyclopedia because encyclopedias _definitely_ didn't freak out.

_Hermione. I love him._

"Wait. Wait. Oh no no no no no no no," Hermione's eyes went wide.

_Please. You must understand. I showed you my memories for a reason, Hermione._

"Wait, so you're telling me that...I….you….did…._something_….with-"

_You know what we did._

Hermione felt a popping noise in her head and suddenly a rush of memories, emotions, feelings and sensations overwhelmed her.

_It's not your fault. It was a…happy accident._

There was the butterbeer, the strange feeling, the rush to his office, the potion at the vanity, the change in her appearance, taking off her clothes, and…._oh my god_.

Hermione did not realize that it was possible to turn this red in the face.

_Please._ Lily's voice whispered in her ear. _I'm not sure how much longer I'll be allowed to have a body of my own. How long I'll be able to communicate. You're the first one who I can talk to….since….since I became like this._

"Well, you do know that it was originally my body, right?!" Hermione snapped, but she felt instantly bad for having said it. Lily was not malicious and she was not trying to take over her body. She was simply using it somehow to be herself, and in doing so make choices that she couldn't make all those years ago.

_I know that I can't expect so much of you, but you have no idea how important he is. He's let me walk in his body multiple times, even though, for some reason, he closes his mind to my voice. Every time I feel more and more real, but there's a limit to what I can do in a biologically male body. I don't seem to be able to exert control or influence, and he's never heard me like you do. I feel...more substantial now, and that's both scary and exhilarating._

"I'm still not exactly sure what you want me to do about it," Hermione's tone was skeptical.

_I've spent some time in your head now. I can't help but think that this is fate. You're literally the smartest witch I've ever seen, and you can hear me. I know that it sounds like I'm asking a lot, but I'm begging you. Please. Save me. Help me get my own physical body, or, barring that, please let me-_

"Lily? Are you there? I can't hear you," Hermione had been nervously weaving her fingers together and staring absently at her lap but she looked up into the face of the girl in the mirror and she was blushing a similar shade of crimson.

_Let me...let me carry his child. It's the least I can do for him after all that has happened._

Hermione gaped.

"You're talking about p-p-p-p-pregnancy?! I can't do that for you!"

No fucking way. She couldn't get pregnant right now, not even in a ghost-half of a merged soul desperate favor sort of way- it was only her 6th year, and she had a ton of classes to pass. There was no way she was going to do that for _anyone_, not even if it was _Ron_. At the thought, though, she found herself feeling strangely excited- maybe one day...having kids with Ron would be nice…but then she snapped out of it and wondered why the hell she would even imagine things like that anyway? It's not like Ron was beating down doors trying to find her while she was drugged with some kind of lust potion, transfigured into a teenaged version of Harry's mom and trapped in some kind of sex dungeon with _Severus Snape_ for god knows how long. No. She couldn't get pregnant. That would ruin everything.

_I'm not sure you're going to have much of a choice in the matter._

Lily's reflection looked shyly up at Hermione, and with a sick thrill in the pit of her stomach, she suddenly realized why she felt like she was sitting in a puddle. A sticky, white puddle.

"Oh _shit_," Hermione said, and this time, her voice echoed ominously.


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's Note: So I'm enjoying getting feedback from you fabulous readers. Please feel free to give me your impressions of the characters- do they feel true-to-life? Are there any that you find yourself incredibly endeared to or completely pissed off at? Also, I do my best to catch any obvious errors, but if I miss something, please do let me know so I can fix it! So now, without further ado...today's chapter._

**Chapter 20: Hardened Hearts**

"Ah, Severus. I've been expecting you."

The man clad in black was imposing against the torchlight in the Headmaster's office, but without his usual flowing outer cloak, he seemed less intimidating than usual. If Albus was surprised that the flicker of desperation and pain behind the eyes of the gaunt man before him was oddly subdued, he did not let on.

"How goes your new position in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he inquired mildly.

"Don't insult me, Albus," Snape snarled, surprised at the level of vitriol in his own voice, "We all know that behind the niceties and foppish affects that you're more of a conniving bastard than even the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as though he had heard an inside joke.

"Is that so, my boy?" The Headmaster popped a hard lemon candy into his mouth nonchalantly.

"You seem particularly...unflappable tonight, Albus," Snape's voice was suddenly weary. It was difficult to summon righteous indignation in the face of such a pathetic display. If he didn't know that Albus Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards of all time, he could have easily passed himself off as a doddering old coot.

"Well, it isn't as though I have much to fear, being marked for an inevitable death, you know," Albus raised his cursed, blackened hand as though it were some sort of punchline.

"How very _honest_ of you," Snape remarked dryly.

"In fact, this is what I was hoping to speak to you about," Albus said genially, his tone as innocuous as though they were talking about the weather, "I know we have spoken about this before, but you must steel yourself in the coming months. I know that the time will come where you must kill me to prove yourself once and for all loyal to Riddle's army. For when I am gone, there is no better candidate for Headmaster in the Death Eater ranks."

"And what if I decide _not_ to do as you have asked?" Snape scoffed, and despite his attempt at a neural tone, he felt his voice growing shrill in reply.

Dumbledore's eyes grew hard for just a moment, but they softened as the wrinkles around his eyes deepened and Snape saw (_was that pity!? The gall of that pompous ass!) _a sadness that replaced it almost immediately.

"You worry about the implications of your task," Albus said softly.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because we are talking about _murder_," he spat back, "You are asking me to become the most hated wizard in the world. Possibly even more hated than Voldemort himself! Regardless of whether or not a soul can be damned more than once, I must request that-"

"You are a bit beyond the point of requesting anything," Dumbledore said darkly, "Must I remind you what you lost the last time you bargained with your former master? What you want is irrelevant. Surely you can't be afraid of your lot after death. You begged me many times to end you when the worst came to pass. And I know that you could not care less about being utterly despised by both the students and a good portion of the staff. You also seem to delight in tormenting other members of the Order of the Phoenix, and might I add that at least one would likely still be alive had you not acted like an utter bastard with your constant taunts and insinuations."

"But...that's..." Snape sputtered uselessly.

"Irrelevant?" Albus's eyes twinkled, but it was not a friendly twinkle, and he stood behind his desk, resting both hands on the ancient wood before him, glaring at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher over his half moon spectacles, "Let me make this clear, _Professor Snape_, I am giving you a direct order. You _will_ kill me when I order you to do so. You _will_ continue to shadow the Malfoy boy and make sure that no harm comes to him or any other students caught up in any of his schemes. _This is not a request_."

For a moment, the pale pinched face seemed to go slack with a raw fear before the enraged Headmaster, but he composed himself and his face became unreadable again as he hid his eyes under a curtain of thick black hair.

"I understand," Snape muttered in a monotone.

"I'm glad that you do," the harmless old man facade slid over the Headmaster as though it had never been anything else, "Lemon drop?"

"_No thank you_," if his words could bite, they would have chewed off the Headmaster's face.

"You don't have to put on a scary display on my account, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly, "You still have some time to make peace with your lot in life."

With that, the Headmaster nodded almost imperceptibly and Snape knew that he was free to go at last. He turned quickly on his heel and stalked slowly out of the office so as to show that damnable man that he did _not_ just intimidate the shit out of Severus Snape.

But as his hand grasped the metal railing on the spiral staircase, it shook involuntarily and he silently cursed himself for having been such a fool to think that it would be that easy to cut and run.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Comfort and Sorrow**

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh _shit! _Lily, _what am I going to do_?" Hermione wailed hysterically, "I can't leave the room and I can't find my wand! I think I left it in my dorm room, so I can't focus my power on even the most basic spell and I think there are some pretty powerful wards on this door! I can't even find a door knob or handle, either!"

Her heart was beating in her chest as though it would burst through her skin at any moment. She had been glowered at a number of times by the former potions master and she had no idea how he was going react to finding her in this state when he returned, but she knew that all of the options were anywhere from terrible to absolutely loathsome.

_Hermione. I want you to take a deep breath._

Hermione laughed hysterically at Lily's suggestion. A ghost- or whatever the hell she was-telling her to take a deep breath?! The world was going mad around her.

_Hermione, listen. You've had a terrible shock, but I'm going to help you as much as I can in my state, and I just want you to know…I think, all things considered, you're handling things surprisingly well._

"Well bully for me! Why not just have a party while we are at it?! The theme can be 'Hermione is now a ruined woman, so let's all laugh at her'! Well?! Aren't you going to laugh at me?!"

_Hermione. I would never do that. And you're not ruined. _

"Well then, what do YOU suggest?" Hermione heaved, a few stray tears still stuck to her cheeks.

_Hermione, there's a shower here. You can get yourself cleaned up and you'll be able to think more clearly._

"But what if HE comes back?!" Hermione pointed a shaking finger at the door to the chamber as she tried to stop the tears and compose herself, "He-he-he's going to want to _murder_ me! He's going to scream and-an-"

_Hermione, I'm going to do my best not to let that happen. Remember, I know Sev better than I think he even knows himself. Now, let's go into the shower. I have a theory I want you to test. It may just solve the yelling problem. _

Hermione looked down at her abdomen, still painfully aware of what Lily had mentioned earlier.

"And what about..?" she sniffed sadly.

_For all we know, it didn't take. We will just have to see if you start...er...your "monthly curse" as you so eloquently put it? It's a good thing Remus isn't here. He might be offended. _

"You know about his...er...'furry little problem'?" Hermione smiled sadly.

_I can explain while you're getting nice and clean in the shower. Come on, now. You will feel like a new person afterwards. _

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Pun intended?" she said, wiping a tear that had slid under her jaw.

Lilly's giggles were like silver bells that echoed ethereally as they followed her into the shower, and somehow Hermione felt a teensy tiny bit better, even though she knew she should still be angry at the girl who had taken over her body the night before. She felt a pang of guilt, wondering if she'd done something to deserve or cause her current predicament, but she kept it buried in her heart because she couldn't find the words to say it out loud. That would make it more uncomfortably real than she could bear. Best to focus on getting cleaned up first. Thinking could come later.

Neither of them noticed that the golden patterns on the door to the chamber behind them were slowly beginning to reappear.


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's Note: I'm sorry that I've been leaving you with cliff hangers every chapter, but I promise, everything is going to start moving kind of quickly. I'm going to try and avoid slamming you with TONS O' PLOT, but this is a complicated web I'm weaving, and I don't want anyone to be confused. I will do my best to answer any questions about the currently posted material, so please feel free to message me if you would like. It helps me to tighten my narrative._

_Many kind thanks to all of the helpful and kind reviewers. The tale isn't told out yet, so I hope to finish this with daily updates, but it certainly helps motivate me when I know that I'm not the only person excited about the story that my brain urged me to write. I don't think we're anywhere close to the end, though, but I hope you join me for the ride!_

**Chapter 22: Discoveries**

Hermione hated to admit it, but Lily was right. The hot water pouring from the showerhead was heavenly.

She frowned when she realized that there was no washcloth or back scrubber, both of which were mandatory items to get a truly deep clean as far as she was concerned. She sighed and decided to make do with her hands.

There was an alcove built into the side of the stone shower stall where an assortment of bottles were placed, as well as a small bar of soap. She noticed flecks of lavender in the milky white substance and inhaled with pleasure at the savory scent that filled the room as she lathered it up between her hands. She then used her sudsy hands to wash the sweat and..._other fluids_...from her body, wincing a little when she accidentally put pressure on various sore muscles. Inwardly, she chastised herself for not having set aside more time for regular exercise. For as strong as her mind might be, her body could use some regular toning as well.

When she had finally rinsed her body of suds and had lathered some very unique shampoo (well, she guessed it was shampoo but she had never encountered such a unique scent before. She imagined that, as a Potions Master, Snape probably made this particular blend of hair product himself). It was a pity he obviously neglected his own hygiene. The shampoo made her scalp tingle pleasantly and the mild honeysuckle and clover scent made her feel incredibly luxurious. She lazily wondered why he had never considered selling such an amazing product. But then she realized that this was _Snape_ she was thinking about and between his duties at the school and his persona in the classroom, she actually didn't know much about him at all, not really.

_Penny for your thoughts?_

Lily.

Hermione jumped and had to grab onto the shampoo alcove, knocking over a couple bottles, as she caught herself mid-slip. She silently thanked Snape for having the forethought to put an Anti-Shatter Charm on the bottles. In fact, she had almost forgotten about everything in the hazy warmth of the water, and she half-wondered if the weird substance she had taken in the butterbeer was still affecting her normally sharp mind.

"You surprised me," she said lamely.

_Don't worry, I am kind of used to being ignored. _

Hermione felt a stab of pity for the invisible girl, but as she winced a little when a muscle in her bottom that she didn't even know she had began to ache as she pushed lightly against one of the walls, she also felt a sharp needle of self-righteous indignation.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," she said a bit shortly. Anger was so much better than crying like a total ninny.

_To be honest, I completely deserve your ire. When I found myself in a physical form after so many years...and then I didn't exactly feel in control of myself. It was like I was under the influence of some kind of..._

"...drug. I-we...We were drugged," Hermione finished stupidly, thinking about the strange targeted lust that had filled her in the boy's dorm. She suddenly felt a sharp twinge of guilt about how much she had been willing to blame Lily for her predicament. It wasn't as though Lily tricked her into drinking the strange potion on the vanity in the adjoining room or had forced her to chug down the butterbeer in an attempt at revenge against Ron's asshatery, which was what had started the whole sordid affair.

_And it's just...I...I've never been able to touch him like this, to be heard by him. He may be a powerful wizard, but all my past attempts at communication have been like screaming at a wall. So I stay close. I've watched the worst of him...the achingly beautiful parts too. _

Hermione would not have called Severus Snape "beautiful," but she wasn't going to interrupt. Lily's voice was still whispering in her ears, but she was intimately aware of the tinge of awkward affection in her tone.

_The thing is, I was too proud. I allowed myself to be manipulated. I allowed myself get pulled into an almost cult-like belief about my House. I can't regret my blustering ignorance in the past enough considering what I know now. _

"I'm not quite sure I follow," Hermione frowned.

_Don't you ever wonder why the Gryffindors think so highly of themselves? Why we tend to marry others from our House and at an unusually young age on average? I figured it out, even if Sev is unwilling to admit it. He is still convinced that he's simply the unluckiest person in the world, but he's really just a scapegoat. The PERFECT scapegoat if you will. _

Hermione closed her eyes and began rubbing a second application of shampoo into her unruly hair. It was generally the only way she could keep it looking halfway decent, and it gave her time to process Lily's words.

"So you're saying that Se-, er, Professor Snape is innocent of any wrongdoing?" she asked the seemingly empty air.

_No one is innocent, Hermione. Not me. Not you. Not him, especially. We all make mistakes- some that are larger than others. But I am of the opinion that just because you make a mistake, you shouldn't be forced to suffer for the rest of your life simply because you did wrong. I used to think differently, though. That was one of my greatest mistakes._

_The Anima Voti worked, as you probably gathered already. So I would often get snatches of thoughts or feelings of what Sev was up to in school, often when I was trying to do important things like study or hanging out with friends. There's a reason I regularly accused him of being friends with Death Eaters long before we hit adulthood. I didn't do it just because I disliked Slytherin students or anything as petty as all that, though that did come later. Most of the Slytherins were actually pretty decent until later on in 5th year. But sometimes, when he was having intense feelings about various things...I saw him...make things...Forbidden Section level potions...for them. Things that would be used for You Know Who's benefit. And then he must have started noticing, and he started shutting me out._

Hermione started, "I knew he could do occlumency, but I thought that he'd learned it later, as an adult. It's pretty hard to learn even as a class, much less on your own."

_That's how it started. He didn't want me to know what he was doing. I think he was ashamed, but he still kept at it no matter what I said and wouldn't explain himself even when I asked. And then it became a habit and he was totally unreadable about even the simplest things. He kept his guard up constantly, shut me out. And then, without those glimpses, I started filling in the blanks with my own imagination, and as far as I was concerned, he was as good (well, as bad) as a Death Eater long before he graduated. I shouldn't have listened to Dumbledore when he implied that I should give up on Sev altogether, but I had gotten to the point that no matter what he said, I felt that he was lying to me, except for that time he called me a Mudblood._

Hermione gasped. She remembered having been called similar, and the intense shame and anger she'd felt once she had learned exactly what it meant.

_But who knows? Maybe he was lying about that too. Maybe he lied about everything. Maybe I got it all wrong. That's the thing about memories. They're tainted by your past self, your past experiences, and it's impossible to detangle them and see them objectively. My memories are kind of a blur after that. I remember waking up in an unfamiliar house, one that I realized eventually is Sev's parent's old house. I'd never visited it when I was a kid, so I didn't really know until later. I remember seeing my body, but hearing his voice in my mind- he was crying and completely soused. _

"What are you saying?" Hermione said, puzzled.

_He was using Polyjuice. To….to become...me._

Hermione's eyes went wide with shock. She had never considered that particular usage of the potion, but then again, she didn't have many dirty thoughts beyond the occasional fantasy about stealing a kiss from Ron in the library. She blushed at her naivety.

"So that's how he…."

_...Knew what he was doing?_

Hermione flushed all the way to the roots of her hair and she nodded stiffly.

_I think that something must have happened when...the other me died. Or maybe a part of me was in Sev all along. I am certain it has something to do with the Vow we made. I can't know for sure, but it's the most likely answer, and believe me, I've had plenty of time to ruminate on this stuff. But when he used those hairs from my brush...I became more of myself each time he did it. I don't even know if he realized that this was what he was doing. He spent a lot of time staring at my naked body, you know. And doing the sorts of things to it that I highly doubt he would have done had he known that I was watching him do it._

Hermione shuddered, "That is _so _lecherous."

_To be honest, I didn't mind. As far as he was concerned, I was dead and gone forever. This was all he had left. I didn't really realize the extent to which he relied on me, even after we had stopped talking to one another. After awhile, it was even kind of fun. He got really good at making my body feel amazing and I could share in the sensations more strongly while he was transformed, though I'd have to say that those first couple months where he got his bearings were pretty awkward and I seriously wished I could cover my eyes at how awful he was at it._

A shrill sort of giggle escaped Hermione's lips before she could restrain herself as she imagined exactly what Lily described. Part of her felt a bit jealous that someone would spend that much time…._practicing_…even though he'd never really get to try out his skills in reality.

_This reminds me, I have a theory about this whole thing._

"And what thing is that, _exactly_?" Hermione was finally washing out the shampoo, and grimacing as her hair started to feel snarled and bushy as she ran her fingers through it even though it was still heavy and wet.

_About me and you. I was kind of hoping to test my theory._

"What exactly would I have to do?" Hermione was intrigued, but she still felt slightly shy about the whole thing. It was one thing to change forms under the influence of some strange potion, but it was quite another trying to do such a thing while relatively sober and back in her awkward and know-it-all mind. It was one thing to be able to use a book to try out something new, but it made her feel wholly uncomfortable to try something without instructions or precedent.

_I was just thinking tha-_

Lily's voice was cut off by the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door opening, the wooden door lightly rubbing against the stone floor.

"Don't move. Don't even breathe. I don't know how you got in here, but you will regret your poor decision," the voice was acid and dripping venom, and it drew closer as a dark shape approached the shower.

Hermione was trapped.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Disarmingly Charming**

"I _can _hear you talking to yourself in there. You're not fooling anyone," Snape's sarcastic voice echoed off the walls of the lavoratry.

Hermione shrunk away from the cloth curtain as she saw the outline of a tall, gaunt figure growing closer to it. She turned off the water to get the warm spray out of the way so it wouldn't blur her sight while also trying to think of what she could use to defend herself. She impulsively grabbed one of the bottles, but it looked pathetically tiny in her hand, and the Anti-Shatter Charm would prevent her from breaking it and using as a defensive weapon.

A small point pushed against the fabric at the side of the curtain. It was a wand. _His wand._

_Hermione? Do you trust me?_

She couldn't speak. Regardless of what she'd learned in the past hours, she was still terrified of the wrath of the man on the other side of the curtain. She was all too familiar with his temper. And it really, _really_ did not help that she was absolutely naked in every sense of the word. A small scream escaped Hermione's lips even as she was trying to hold it back.

_Hermione, I'm here._

She was trapped.

_Hermione, please. I want to help._

He pulled the curtain away suddenly, wand still raised and she froze like a deer in headlights, her heart thudding wildly.

For a moment, she saw the fiery anger she had expected to see, judging from his voice only moments before. But the second his eyes locked upon hers, his face changed to an expression of complete and utter bafflement. She'd never seen his eyes go wide like that, and she didn't realize that it was possible for his face to blanche any whiter than usual, but it managed to do so almost instantly. His wand was in his right hand and he still had it frozen with the point lightly resting against the curtain, not pointed at her...yet.

Somehow, Hermione found she could move again, and almost instinctively she crossed her legs as best she could, covering her breasts with right arm.

_Hermione? Do you trust me?_

She had nothing to lose. She nodded.

_Kiss him. Now, before he recovers. Please. _

__She had no other ideas and she was out of options. He had her cornered, and she couldn't hope for him to be stunned forever.

She struggled mightily against her natural inclination to shrink from his intimidating visage, and before he could recover, she'd pushed herself forward, slipping slightly on the wet stone floor of the shower and before she realized what she was doing, her hands had flown out instinctively in front of her to steady herself and had to grab the front of his black teaching jacket just to keep from completely knocking him over. Before he could respond, she had taken hold slightly underneath either side of his jaw as she pulled his still oddly frozen face down to hers and pressed her lips against his.

She felt a hot, thin line of desire run through her body from the contact, as though she'd touched a live wire, and the transformation was almost instantaneous. Her hair fell into loose red waves, her skin went milky white, she grew taller and just like that her body became that of Lily Evans. It was her turn to feel a little disembodied, though she found that if she really concentrated, that she could wiggle Lily's fingers on her left hand. Part of her mind was just as shocked as Snape's face, but she was also insanely curious about exactly _what_ had happened.

His eyes widened further and his breathing became shallow as though he was about to start panting, but still he said nothing.

Lily stepped back from the man before her and her eyes flashed angrily, even as her voice came out breathless.

"Don't you dare be angry at Hermione, Sev," she growled, throwing her arms wide, her voice full of a protective anger, "It's not her fault! I won't let you hurt her!"

At the sound of her voice, Snape appeared to be released from his shock-induced stupor, and his eyes screwed up into an unreadable, dark glare. Hermione could see something flicker across those dark eyes, and she knew in an instant what he was thinking. Anger. Anger was safe. Anger made things easier.

"Exactly _what _do you think you are doing, Ms. Granger?!" he roared nastily, his face dark and contorted with rage.

Hermione wanted to sob as her worst case scenario came true, but Lily held her ground.

"Sev, I don't have much time, and I don't care how angry you feel you need to be to save your stupid pride because you feel like you got tricked. First of all, Hermione was under the influence of some kind of...potion...that got slipped into her food or drink. It made her...seek you out. Secondly, you didn't secure the doors to your chambers, so you have no one to blame but yourself for accidentally letting her in, unless that was your intent all along. Thirdly," her eyes flashed dangerously, and Snape held his tongue as he was about to argue, "_Thirdly_, you didn't seem to ask any questions when I magically appeared naked in your shower last night, or for the next seven or eight times you emptied your seed inside of my womb."

Hermione would have put her hands over her face in embarrassment had she had actual hands with which to do such a thing as she heard Lily's tirade. She expected Snape to scream, to rage, to possibly strike out physically, but she wasn't at all prepared for how he reacted to Lily's venomous accusations.

He seemed to crumple back slightly at the sound of Lily's angry voice, and he lowered his wand to his side, backing away and refusing to meet her eyes.

_Was that shame on his face?_ Something about his demeanor made him seem repentant, as though he knew that he'd done wrong, and Hermione knew that he was ashamed that he hadn't been his usual, overly suspicious self. When he looked at her again, it was like he was looking through Lily, trying to find the brown of Hermione's eyes, and the hurt concern he conveyed with that glance spoke volumes.

But Lily stepped forward with a determined glare on her face, closing the distance between them as she grabbed him again, kissing him, and his arms flailed wildly in surprise but he made no move to push her off of him.

"Sorry about that," she said darkly, "But I needed to refresh it, or I won't be able to finish my thoughts."

"You-"

"Don't interrupt me, Sev, I'm not in the mood. Well, actually, I _am_ in the mood, but I am not going to do anything about it for the moment because you need to understand what's going on," Lily's tone was stern and Hermione was glad she wasn't at the receiving end of that fiery irritation.

"I've been stuck inside as a part of you for _years_ but you've never been able to hear me when I tried to talk to you. You've kept your mental walls up, maybe out of habit, maybe out of necessity, and while I know that you have your reasons for doing so, it's been a lonely hell for me. Your Polyjuice...exploits...have helped me to build my consciousness from almost nothing, but other than that, I've been forced to take a backseat to everything you do. Haven't you even wondered why your Patronus is a doe? It's not just because you...care about me. It's because I'm a _part_ of you. Or, at least I _was_. Something between Hermione drinking that Polyjuice and the connection you made with my body finally freed me from your side to Hermione's. And now I find that every time Hermione finds herself the tiniest bit...shall we say, _wet_, that's when _I_ come out."

She rubbed her fingers around the ends of her hair, which were already transforming back into Hermione's soggy brown bushy locks and then grabbed the man clad in black who appeared once more to be frozen as though hit by a Total Body Bind curse and kissed him yet again, watching as the brown snarls transformed back into red waves.

Snape seemed to deflate even more, flopping back into a sitting position on the stone floor with a strange, shocked and hollow expression etched onto his face, almost as though he'd been kissed by a dementor. Hermione felt pity for that face and the intense thousand yard stare that he was directing at a small piece of flooring at Lily's slender bare feet.

"I want you to understand, Sev. I have _years_ of unfulfilled desire saved up for you, and I know from your embarrassingly intimate exploits that you obviously feel similarly about me. Whenever I see you, I confess that I want to jump on you and keep going until we are both spent. But what I really want is _not_ to constantly push Hermione out of her physical form. I want-I _need_ my own body. A place for my soul or whatever you'd call what I am that won't either be locked away inside of your mind or pulling Hermione out of hers. I don't want to die or cease to exist. I want to live, preferably with you if you'll have me. And if anything, I want you and Hermione to help me make that a reality."

Snape had placed his face in his hands and his hair had fallen in front of him like a curtain, so Hermione couldn't quite see what he was doing, but she had her suspicions. His shoulders were gently shaking and she thought she heard a quiet sort of sobbing moan emanating from behind the curtain of black.

"Hermione?" Lily asked suddenly.

_Yes, Lily?_

"I want to prove that I'm real to him," Lily said shyly, as though she had just become aware of her nudity, "And I want to ask your permission to...reprise my actions from earlier on, before I was totally in my right mind."

Hermione felt the strange swooping sensation in her stomach that she always felt when her parents took her to the local county fair and she rode one of those rides that dropped suddenly and without warning. She knew what Lily was asking permission to do, and even though she _had_ just showered and hated the idea of having to get all cleaned up again, a large part of her longed to throw caution to the wind. Lily's memories were whispering in her mind, and she could pull feelings from them and it endeared her to this complicated and obviously damaged person who only a few days prior she'd thought of in a disparaging, one dimensional manner. She could feel the rising heat and cloying sweetness of arousal running over her in waves, as though each kiss had created an addictively pulsing live wire connection and she felt compelled to ride it out, regardless of what her logical mind kept shouting at her about "bad ideas" and "it's a trap."

And besides, It's not like this would be new ground after all that had happened mere hours before, and the hours before that. She didn't want to ruin her life, but part of her realized that between Voldemort, the various other dangers that seemed out to kill her and her friends _every single year_ she attended school, and the simple fact that she knew that she could….she WOULD handle anything that threw itself in her way, it was as though any fear she'd had before simply melted away. She'd been able to handle using a Time Turner without anyone noticing until Dumbledore had exposed her to Harry (which was such an advanced magical object that most magical folks didn't even know it existed outside of theoretical research). All things considered, magical transformation soul merging and possible pregnancy weren't even close to the biggest problems she'd encountered, especially if it involved the kind of pleasure that she'd only read about. This was a war. She was starting to reach the realization that she wasn't living in a storybook where everything was clean and perfect and all the right choices were made with minimal fuss. This was real life and real life was messy. People made mistakes. People got hurt because of it. The universe was unfair and often exceedingly cruel.

She couldn't lie to herself anymore. Everyone was simply deluding themselves that there were any safe places left. The battle would come to every place she considered safe, and if she had been lying to herself about the disturbing implications of exactly what Voldemort's goals were, she wasn't doing so anymore. Part of her was actually kind of relieved to think that if she died in the course of it that at least she wouldn't die a virgin. Maybe this is why so many muggle soldiers wanted to fuck like rabbits the moment they returned from deployment. Apparently, there was nothing like impending death to make people obsessed with creating life.

"_Please_, Hermione," Lily whispered into the air around her, and Hermione felt a stab of guilt as she saw the naked hunger in Lily's eyes, and the gaunt, emaciated man in black who sat awkwardly on the floor hiding behind his hair like a frightened child. Why did magic have to be so complicated? And, for that matter, why did human relationships have to be even more so?

_Lily, if it's that important to you, I suppose it can't hurt any more than it already has. The damage has been done. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that, you know?_

A look of almost impish joy broke across Lily's face at Hermione's whispery assent.

She went down on her hands and knees towards the quivering man. He physically shook when she touched him, and Hermione noticed that his wand lay forgotten and discarded over on the floor by the base of the toilet. He was so vulnerable like this that she was almost unsure why she had ever been afraid of him.

Lily grabbed his face gently, smoothing the hair away from his eyes and brought it up to hers.

"I'm _real,_ Sev," she breathed, nuzzling her nose against his and meeting his eyes, "And I never want to be away from you again. So please. Help me. Save me. Love me. _Fuck me_."

His eyes closed then and she knew that he couldn't help it. He moaned almost soundlessly against her as she kissed his lips again and collapsed into her as she kissed his neck and ran her fingers down his chest, unbuttoning his in tiny, precise movements.

"Lily," he sighed almost inaudibly, and then, "Please stay."

"I never left you, Sev," she whispered softly into his ear, "And if I can help it, I never will."

She was kissing him in earnest now, and he began to match the intensity of her lips with his own. He found his strength and held her with an intensity that almost knocked the wind out of her.

"You're real," he said, and his voice broke slightly as he said it as though he still couldn't believe it.

Hermione could feel the heat building in Lily's body and she let herself be carried away by it as Lily kissed the man she adored, and she imagined that he loved her all the more for it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Closer Still, Yet Further Away**

For the first time in years, Severus wanted to ignore what he'd seen and heard. He wanted to hold onto Lily, feel her naked, warm skin rubbing against his. He wanted to indulge in the exact sorts of carnal delights that she kept whispering lewdly into his ear every time she pulled away from his lips. He wanted his mind to go blank and let go of his infuriating habit of sliding that mask of control over himself, to forgo doing the right thing when the right thing always seemed to be the most painful and self-sabotaging thing imaginable.

He loathed himself in his weakness and indecision. No matter what he chose, he would pay a price. But which was the worse choice?

_No. I'm a better man than this. I'm not going to take advantage of that Granger girl...Hermione…_

He would never admit that he knew her first name because that level of familiarity was unthinkable to him since Hermione was obviously just one of Potter's insufferable lackies, but after hearing Lily say her name and ask for "permission," it was like a hum in the back of his head, and he couldn't help but realize that she wasn't just some supporting character in Potter's foolhardy quest. She was just as much of a person as himself. The fact that she couldn't stop getting herself into trouble was less of a willful desire on her part to cause him pain and more of a manifestation of her own desire to be useful and survive. These were, as Albus was fond of saying, _dark times._ The fact that he had only defined her by how much her actions interfered with his own made him feel childish. He should have known better than to underestimate her.

_Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione._

It was like a chorus ringing in his mind.

Ugh, what was he doing? If anyone knew what was going on in his head….but then again, he knew that there was no way he could let anyone in. It was safer this way. Everyone else was safer.

_God_, he was miserable.

With an extreme reluctance, he put his hands on Lily's shoulders and pulled her lips gently from his, opening his eyes and doing his best to look compassionate. Instead, he knew that it looked more like an aloof grimace, but he was trying, and it was hard enough as it was to hold his composure at all, especially as his body roared to life with both sexual and psychological desire. He was so damn weary. Between talking with Albus (which was always immensely draining) and each time he was summoned to visit the Dark Lord, he felt as though he were being slowly divided into many pieces and forced to watch as he was devoured slowly by either those sparkling blues or those slitted reds. He wasn't sure exactly how much of himself he had left, and while he'd never admit it, he was terrified of the implications.

He fiddled with the clasp at his neck and swung the wide cape from around his neck (though he'd only just recently placed it back on his shoulders upon entering the chamber) in one fluid motion and covered her body with it. Lily's face was frozen in a mask of surprise at his uncharacteristically gentlemanly gesture. Twisting his hand at the wrist, he called his wand to him from where it had rolled, and it came to him easily as though blown by an invisible wind. When he raised his wand, Lily's eyes flashed with fear, but he merely cast a non-verbal drying charm on her body.

"Sev," she gasped plaintively, but he held her firmly at the shoulders with one hand and she didn't struggle against him, "Is this really what you want? I have asked Hermione's permission this time and she understands….I just…."

He placed a finger on her lips, and it was all he could do not to grab her and take her as he had the night before.

Taking a couple deep, measured breaths, he composed himself and then reopened his eyes.

"Lily," he said finally and he was amazed that he kept his voice from breaking pitch as he continued, "I believe that you are real. But the implications of the other things you told me before are incredibly problematic and you can't expect me to ignore this."

"But-"

"Listen. To. Me." he enunciated sternly, "Hermio-er-_Granger_ is my student. As much as I'm willing to put aside the sheer impossibly _convoluted_ nature of exactly how this happened, we still have a massive problem."

Lily looked to her left as though she could see something that was invisible to Severus and she smiled gently. Then she looked back at him and her eyes were soft and a little wistful. It pained him greatly to see her like that, but he forced himself back behind his mental shield and said nothing.

"Hermione says that she wants to talk to you, but I can feel her coming back, so I'll let her tell you herself," Lily had a funny look on her face, a bemused smirk playing across her lips that reminded him a lot of his own favorite smirk. _You're not fooling anyone_, it said.

As he watched, Lily's eyes went from green to brown, as though a different soul were pouring into her body, and as quickly as Lily had appeared, Hermione came back into herself. She was on her knees on the cold stone floor but covered from neck to toe with the thick black cloak and she blushed slightly as she noticed he was looking at her while sitting at about the same height against the wall with his knees up and his wand arm resting on his knee.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes filling with tears, "I should have done, I could have….I just…"

_I'm not going to hug her. I'm not going to hug her. I'm not going to hug her._

"There is no reason for you to do such a thing," he said morosely.

He gave himself a mental pat on the back for not indulging in his ridiculous inclination to comfort her, but he didn't have more than a moment to do so before she had mindlessly thrown her arms around him in a surprisingly crushing bear hug.

After the initial surprise, he did his best to sound both gentle and not betray the slight twinge in his stomach that almost felt like a leap of joy.

"It appears that you are getting…._tear stains_….on my shoulder," he said awkwardly, and it came out more bitingly sarcastic than he had been trying for.

The girl suddenly seemed to realize exactly who she'd been throwing her arms around willy-nilly and she flushed and pulled away from him, grabbing at the clasp at her neck in an embarrassed but incredibly endearing manner.

"I think it's best if we get you back into some clothing, and then I want to talk to you before you go scurrying off, ok?" His voice was even, and he hoped that she wouldn't read anything sinister into it.

He gently motioned for her to remain where she was, then picked himself up gently and walked into the other room, looking around the chair and the vanity for the unmistakable Gryffindor tie and gray uniform that belonged to her. He was immensely grateful that her knickers were rolled into her skirt, because somehow he felt perverted when he imagined touching something that rested so closely against the private places of a current student. He then stuck his uniform-laden arm through the door while averting his gaze and closed the bathroom door firmly once she had taken them from him.

Severus paced, more out of habit than anything, as he waited for Hermione to dress. He needed to impress upon her the importance of figuring out a plan of action. Lilly…if that was really who she said she was...she was in there somewhere, and she needed her own body. He tried to untangle the last 24 hours, but they were like a strange blur to him, and all he had to go on was a sweet haze of memories between the shock he'd experienced in his drunken state at the girl who had walked into his shower and the sober confrontation in the shower that he'd just walked into.

And as far as damage control in the meantime….it was late now, and tomorrow was Sunday, but after that were classes that Granger would have to show up to lest people started poking their noses where they didn't belong. He highly doubted that they'd be able to figure something out in one day, even if he stayed up the entire night researching from his private library. There was no way he was going to bring this up to Madame Pomfrey. He was too closely involved. He'd…._indulged himself_….with her. It didn't matter that he didn't know, that he'd thought he was hallucinating. How could he keep hurting people? Why did it always seem to coincide with anything that made him even the least bit happy?

He scowled. Spy or no spy, Dumbledore would not be able to ignore _this_ if it became common knowledge. He would rather die than let Albus get even a _whiff_ of this entire cock-up. And he knew that Hermione would suffer needlessly too. _Why did everyone who got close to him always end up suffering? _

He felt like he was forgetting something important and that bothered him like a sliver buried deep under his skin, but his thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Hermione cleared her throat behind him and he turned toward her, trying his best to appear as non-threatening as possible.

She didn't shrink away from him, so he hoped it was good enough.

_My life just keeps getting better and better, _he thought bitterly to himself, _Now all I need is a shite cherry to put on the shite-swirl of whipped cream on the double-scoop shite sundae of my life._

"Come this way Hermio-er-_Granger_," he said, trying to appear genial as he led her through the golden leaf covered door, "We have much to discuss."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: Bibliophilia**

"Oh my god. I think I'm in love."

Hermione never thought she'd say it, especially in the proximity of Severus Snape, but she couldn't help it.

He looked sharply at her, and she turned pink when she realized that she'd said it out loud, but it was too late to hold back her outburst. The library that spread out before her was impossibly large for the space and she knew it must be a beautiful sort of magic that she knew almost nothing about..._yet._ This gave her a secondary thrill- oh how she wanted to learn about how to do something like this in her own living quarters! Perhaps it was some kind of spell that was similar to an Undetectable Extension Charm. The bookshelves stretched up at least two floors above her head and there were several beautiful couches placed at regular intervals in the room as well as a cherrywood desk with a small lamp on it for studying and writing. Glass windows that she couldn't see poured a perpetual toasty afternoon light down into the room even as she tilted her head up until she thought she'd fall over trying to see them in vain.

"_This_ is your personal library?" she asked, mouth still agape.

He nodded slightly and his mouth twitched upward in the corner for a moment at her unabashed excitement.

"This is _amazing_," she said, and she spun around lazily with her head inclined toward the ceiling and her hands out.

"That is quite enough," Snape said testily, "I brought you in here to talk, but if you'd prefer my potions storeroom with pickled things staring at you and the incredibly hard stools therein, I'll be happy to accommodate you there instead."

Hermione abruptly stopped and flopped herself on the nearest couch, looking up at him but trying to steal glances at the bookshelves when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Eyes, Granger," he said, his mouth a firm line.

She suddenly looked over to her left and smirked.

"Yeah, I know," she said lightly, and he knew that she was talking to…._Lily._

It was still hard for him to believe, and considering the fact that he lived in a world of magic, that was saying something. Long a fan of critical thinking (with a focus on the _critical_ part), Snape was not fond of flowery or superfluous explanations. He wanted to know _facts_.

She turned back to look at him, smiling a bit vaguely as though the books themselves were lightening her spirit.

Anything to stop thinking about how an increasingly large part of him was wishing he hadn't pushed Lily away when she had offered herself to him because this was a mess in every possible meaning of the word, and he knew that before this was over, there was very little chance he'd taste her lips or feel her body writhe against his ever again. Once again, he was reminded how every kindness in his life was always cruelly snatched away, either through some conscious or unconscious act on his part.

She started swinging her feet back and forth absently, and her eyes wandered, still wide and sparkling with awe at her surroundings.

Anything to stop thinking about how the young woman he was trying to intimidate by blasting out a withering sneer from under his hooked nose was now..._involved_.

She looked back at her left and murmured an affirmative to the invisible girl.

His back stiffened and a slight redness crawled up the back of his neck as he thought of his Polyjuice ritual. _How much did she know? He would need to proceed with the utmost caution._

"So, let me get this straight," he said tiredly, using one hand to rub his eyes, "You consumed something strange?"

Hermione felt a bit suspicious about his unusually gentle tone, but she figured that it was better than the alternative and she nodded slightly in reply. Her face must have reflected her thoughts fairly clearly because he raised one eyebrow and snorted derisively.

"You would prefer that I start shouting at you?" his voice sounded distinctly amused, which, judging by Hermione's shocked look, seemed to be something that she was unaware he was capable of feeling.

"No, it's just…" she didn't have to finish the thought.

"Come on, Granger, I _do_ have a heart, regardless what your _little friends_ seem to think about the so-called Bat of the Dungeons. And yes, I do have ears. I'm not ignorant of the various _terms_ used to describe me."

_Ugh. He was rambling. He detested rambling._

She looked at him for a long moment, and when he met her gaze, he was unable to stop himself from flashing back to seeing her…._without...any.._.he blinked slowly so that he wouldn't give away his thoughts. He'd never really seen her as more than a giant brown hedge of hair bobbing over a formless black robe, never complete without an annoying, skyward-pointed hand in class, so suddenly seeing her so vulnerable when he was least expecting it was shocking, and his mind kept sticking on it like a record needle skipping on a rough patch of vinyl. Somehow, the Granger girl…._Hermione_ had developed an adult body, and it was affecting his ability to focus.

He looked away and gestured to her impatiently, "So? Care to elaborate?"

"Well, I saw Ron and Neville come into the common room, but they were acting...oddly…" she frowned, but it made her face appear more endearing, if anything, "So I went to investigate, and it seems that Ron left Harry a butterbeer on his nightstand with a note saying it was paying him back for the last Hogsmeade trip. I got so mad that _that great red-haired oaf_ forgot that it was _me_ who bought that butterbeer for him without even so much as a thanks that I...I just chugged the whole thing down in anger."

She had a look on her face that showed exactly how childish and petty she sounded, but he couldn't help but rub it in- it was such a habit by now.

"Do you normally make a habit of going into boys' rooms and eating food that's been left out?" Snape was able to conceal any heady thoughts with his famous Voice of Ultimate Disdain, which also kept him from smiling at Hermione's impassioned description of the youngest Weasley boy.

Hermione turned scarlet and she shook her head, hiding behind her eyelashes.

"I won't say it's a _good_ thing that you somehow found your way to me," he started, using a dismissive tone so that she wouldn't be able to see that, thanks to the sordid series of events, he'd finally experienced one entire day that didn't involve Voldemort, Dumbledore's word games or some kind of emotional, psychological or physical anguish. Actually, it was pretty much the opposite of basically every rotten, no-good, terrible day he'd had since he could remember.

Hermione's eyes widened until they were huge like an owl's, but she said nothing.

"But as you probably know, I was, until very recently, a potions professor," he continued, his voice softening, "And I daresay that I know quite a lot about various brewed substances and their...effects."

He gave her a pointed look, and for a second, he thought that he saw her eyes turn green, but on a second glance, they were the same deep honey-brown that they had always been, at least he guessed that was how they'd always been. He didn't consider himself the sort of person who made a habit of looking deeply into the eyes of his students.

When she said nothing but continued to stare wide-eyed at him as he paced slowly in front of her trying to focus, he continued, "So let me break down your main problem in two parts. First off, we need to figure out what you were drugged with because I can't imagine that it was some run-of-the-mill love potion. I am a very careful, private person. I do not leave the doors to my chambers open. _Ever._ Yet, somehow you got in, even though you were probably as high as a kite on this mystery potion. The fact that you somehow also manifested a second personality of someone who I only recently thought I had lost forever-"

He cut himself off mid-sentence when he realized with horror exactly what sentimental nonsense he was about to say, and for a moment, his carefully constructed facade of stoicism melted into a tired, sad look before he straightened up and pulled up his defenses again.

"I saw it, sir," Hermione said suddenly, "Lily showed me."

Snape looked flustered at the sound of her voice, then composed himself again. She smiled at him gently and he could have kicked himself.

_Why is it so easy for her to knock me off balance?_

"What, exactly?" his tone was somewhere between a statement and a question.

"The _Anima Voti_," she replied simply, and then she blushed, "And….the Polyjuice…._thing_…"

It was his turn to feel the blood rushing to his face. She saw...she knew...oh god, she must think he was some kind of horrible perverted creep.

_Her hair. It was going red and wavy. But Lily had said earlier that it only did that when…..Oh._

"Be kind to her, Sev," Lily's voice said, "For all intents and purposes, we're the same person right now, even though I'm the one who _technically _gets to have all the fun, well, as long as certain _tall, dark, brooding professors_ don't keep trying to play the ever-suffering martyr."

He was silent with fascination as he watched the girl transform back into her original form again.

"This leads me to our second biggest problem," Snape tried to regain his composure, keeping his voice dangerously even to the point that even he could hear how forced it sounded.

"I want to help Lily," Hermione wasn't stupid. She already knew what he was going to say, but she nodded silently at him, beckoning him to continue.

"I gathered as much, Granger. However, until you and Lily can be...separated safely...we need some kind of plan for keeping you from….well...we need to effectively figure out how to stop you from becoming sexually aroused, or things are going to get very messy very quickly," he finished finally, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the detached clinical turn of phrase.

_Sexually aroused doesn't even begin to describe how fantastic it feels._

A muscle in his jaw twitched involuntarily as he tried to pull his mind away from remembering how amazing it had been the night before, and the not-so-subtle irritation he was feeling for having ruined it all out of some ridiculous medieval idea of chivalry. His body seemed to agree quite pointedly with his hedonistic thoughts, and he shifted uncomfortably, rocking back slightly on his heels so that Hermione would not see how it had affected him.

She was looking. Her hair was going all coppery again, and he was losing his resolve. He wasn't sure he could push her away a second time.

_Damn it all to hell. Why did she have to be so damn observant?_

"Sev," Lily's voice was soft and close by and he realized that he'd closed his eyes without noticing.

He took a sharp intake of breath. She was so close. He was looking down at her wide, green eyes, and she wasn't yet touching him, but only just. Her pupils were dilated with desire and he could feel his own eyes change to mirror them. His hands ached to grab hold of her, but he stilled himself as she moistened her lips slightly to speak.

_I'm falling, there's no help for it now._

"I think Hermione just figured out a way we might handle the _arousal problem_," she spoke breathily, and when her fingers lightly touched the cloth of his jacket, he felt as though he'd been zapped with a static shock.

_I can't help myself. I'm not strong enough to resist this._

He breathed in her scent as she drew closer to him, one hand running down his abdomen to rest lightly over the dark bulge that he'd tried desperately to conceal.

_I am lost. So good and lost._

When she kissed him at last, he thought he could hear the echo of a second voice moan lightly in pleasure even as he tasted Lily's distinct flavor on his tongue, and his resolve was no more.


	26. Chapter 26

;) _Author's Note__: So yeah, there's a lot of sex in this chapter. And everyone's enjoying it! And everyone's consenting! Sorry, not sorry! Some commenters have been saying that they don't like my story. That is totally a valid opinion (one I hope that most of you don't share), but I would simply like to say that if you do not care for my writing, you are not obligated to read it. And as sad as it makes me feel to hear that my writing is not up to snuff to some people, I've had a lot of fun writing this. I will probably be doing some time skips in the near future, or I'm going to have a hundred chapters on my hands and my keyboard will probably catch fire from all the typing. Sorry for the long note, but eh, que sera sera._

**Chapter 26: Dual Desires**

Lily felt herself pushing her body against Sev's dark robes insistently, as though they were strongly magnetized and drawn to each other by an invisible force. She moaned deliciously into his mouth. It was then that Lily knew that she couldn't stop herself even if she had wanted to (which she most certainly didn't).

When exactly had she become so sexually assertive, anyway? She couldn't really remember. There was a huge, terrifying blank spot that stretched from the beginning of summer in her 17th year through the moment where she had felt her consciousness re-form invisibly at Sev's side when all of his carefully constructed walls had fallen away to grief and desperation. Part of her imagined that it had to do with the fact that the only time he ever felt pleasure was when he was engaging in perverted shenanigans with Polyjuice. It wasn't even that she felt sorry for him, though almost two decades of silently watching his every move did certainly help her to understand exactly what sort of hellish torture he was going through in her name.

And _how_ had she never noticed that the boy, that Harry Potter, had the same exact eyes that she had? How could she have not made the connection until Hermione had blatantly explained it to her_?_

_Lily...hanhhhhh...is this how he makes you feel?_

Lily couldn't help but shiver as she heard Hermione's whispery moan curling around her like an insistent wreath of smoke. Lily almost gasped when she realized that this was the first time Hermione had been able to feel the full sensation of the switch, and it was obvious that it was overwhelming her.

She opened her eyes slightly as she kissed the man clad in black and she saw him break his gaze upon her eyes for a fraction of a second as he looked slightly to her left.

_Did he just hear Hermione? But that was impossible!_

But then again, magic seemed to allow a great deal of seemingly impossible things.

Lily couldn't focus. Her body was screaming for release (oh, to finally have a body again!), and she kissed Sev so fiercely and singlemindedly that she was almost surprised when she felt her lungs screaming for air and she finally broke away to take deep, gasping breaths, her face darkened and flushed with lust.

He followed her lead, allowing her to pull him to the couch behind them, the soft, velvety material feeling heavenly on her bare thighs as her skirt hiked up in her haste to pull him down on top of her. The spicy scent of his robes draped forward over her, and she surrounded herself in his scent. He had put a hand down on the back of the couch to keep from falling onto her, but his knees fell forward on either side of her and she could feel the heat of him firmly pressed against her belly as he drew down to kiss her gently and she resumed placing hungry kisses upon his lips. His eyes were unfocused as he held his gaze on her, and he was breathing in shudders and gasps as she traced his collar with her finger and repositioned herself under his chin, drawing out small sweet noises from the back of his throat with small, measured kisses.

Before, when she had been under the influence of the mystery potion, Lily had felt the frantic uncontrollable fluttering desire to fill herself with his cock immediately. But now, her desire, while still heady and intense, also flowed around her with the knowledge that she need not rush in her quest to claim him. The fact that she could hear Hermione's voice quivering with enjoyment intermittently in her ear, made her all the more determined that she allow her friend to savor the delights ahead. It was the difference between scarfing down a meal while famished and delighting in a slow, indulgent feast of the senses.

She undid the clasp of his cape and he shrugged it to the floor. She placed her hand behind his head, burying her fingers into his hair and pulled his lips to hers again and again.

Taking a cue from her, he used his free hand to run his fingers over her head and down her hair. Sharp twinges of sensitivity followed his touch as though electricity was running down each follicle and directly into her brain and she was moaning lightly as he continued to stroke her hair, his face relaxing into a genuine smile that for once did not look like a macabre imitation of joy.

He slid silently down onto the floor, resting on his knees and gently lay his head on her stomach, turning his head to the side and hugging her around her middle.

"My head is so full of light," he said softly, "I can hardly bear it."

Lily stroked his hair, and after a few moments, he raised his head lazily, lifted up her skirt until she saw the white undergarments underneath and began rubbing against the soft fabric. She felt pleasurable waves running through her body as he petted and rubbed against her most intimate places with the palm and fingers of his hand. He shivered slightly as she responded to his touch.

After a few minutes of this, she was practically bucking up against his hand, and he abruptly stopped, which frustrated her. Slowly but surely, he used his long, thin fingers to reach up further, grabbing at each side of the waist of her knickers, and began to pull them down her legs. Lily helped by lifting herself up so that they slipped easily over her bottom.

When he got them to her knees, she felt a strange change in her.

_Oh god, Lily, he's going to see….there!_

Hermione's whispery voice was a little panicky, and Lily tried to assure her that it would be ok, but it didn't seem to help.

No one's ever….their face…._He's going to see, he's going to see, I'm so mortified, he's going to seeeeeeeee!_

Lily felt like someone had abruptly pushed her out of her physical form.

"Ah...Se…Sev…I can't let you see, it's too embarrassing!" Hermione's voice came from her mouth. Her body had reverted to normal, and she had used her hands to cover herself, so embarrassed that she didn't notice that she had just called the man who was also her professor by the childhood nickname that Lily always used.

"But it's beautiful. _You're beautiful_," he breathed, his eyes fixated on the endpoint between her thighs. He kissed at her hands softly, and she wasn't sure if he noticed that they were a shade darker than Lily's skin tone. Something told both Hermione and Lily that he was lost in a haze of his own.

Slowly, Hermione felt her embarrassment ebb, and she moved her hands slightly to the sides of her inner thighs so he could nuzzle against her sex, breathing lightly on her until she mewled loudly. When he licked her gently, she almost screamed with delight, and she felt the flood of desire pounding in her breast as Lily surfaced once again into physical being even as he continued his relentless pursuit.

He moved at a more steady pace, pressing gently against the folds of her labia with his tongue, and running the tip over her clitoral hood gently. He entwined his fingers with hers on one hand, and as she bucked lightly against him, he placed one finger inside of her, moving gently back and forth against the slight ridges inside of her.

Her climax built slowly, almost like a golden hum that grew seemingly out of nowhere. One moment she felt good, but the next, she felt that strangely insistent ache that told her this was different than mere pleasure. It grew in intensity, becoming more difficult for her to deny as she felt her body let go and push higher and higher towards a peak of unspeakable sensitivity. Her head felt like it couldn't be thrown back any further when she came, and her fingers dug into both the couch and Sev's hand as her body pulsed with orgasmic waves.

As she came down from her high, his face had raised up towards hers and he was begging her quietly to please turn around, to please get on her knees and place her hands against the back of the couch. He shadowed her body with kisses on her neck as she turned around, feeling his desire like a tangible thing in the room around them. She looked back over her shoulder and watched him with the self-same sexy, lower-lip biting look that had melted his heart when they were still in school, and his heart melted all over again.

Her eyes darted over to his very obvious erection and he tore off his lower garments quickly when her eyes met his and she raised an eyebrow in a look of utmost anticipation. Within moments, his bare skin was against hers and he brought his hands under her shirt and ran his fingers down the bare skin underneath her back, sliding around to cup her breasts and ran one finger each over the thin fabric of her bra to lightly tweak her erect nipples. She could feel the heat and hardness of him against her bottom, and he whispered into her ear how much he loved feeling her skin against his. His hands slid back and kneaded her ass cheeks and she could feel herself becoming wet and ready for him.

"Is it bad of me that I really want to fuck you while you're still mostly clothed?" he growled into her ear.

"Nuh-no," her red hair shook back and forth.

"I _really_ want to bury myself deep inside of you," he mumbled into her hair as she felt the head of his cock rub against one of her asscheeks.

"Oh yessssss," she said, and her eyes rolled back with pleasure as he did exactly as she asked, guiding himself down and pushing firmly against her until he was inside her at last.

He groaned deeply with the feeling of pushing as deep as he could go, and began to move his hips, pumping at a steady rhythm that belied the urgency of his breaths and the firm grip on her hips. She felt a curious feeling of being empty as he pulled back almost all the way out of her before sliding all the way back inside. They built up a rhythm together, her feeling her breasts shaking slightly at the lewd movement between their bodies, and the way that she grabbed onto him even as he pulled back out of her only to plow ahead again with measured speed.

At last, she could feel his breathing change, his strokes quicker and with more purpose. She knew that he was close, and the thought of this began a slow build-up of urgency within her own body. It was a more languid and slowly-rising pleasure than before, but it seemed to fill her, traveling up her spine and into the base of her skull like waves of golden light pulsing back and forth from her womb.

"Hahhnnn, please, Sev," she heard herself saying, "I want you to come inside me as hard as you can."

Lily could feel Hermione shuddering and murmuring her assent alongside her, and she smiled. She knew that they were both sharing the pleasurable sensations that were flowing through her body. They were both getting close to the point of no return.

"Do you truly desire me to….? Inside….you?" his voice was almost a sigh, cracking a little bit into falsetto near the end.

"I'm so close, and I want you to follow me," she panted in return, "_Please_."

If he was about to say anything in return, it was drowned out in a sharp moan that passed his lips as his orgasm overtook his body and he frantically pumped hard against her, filling her up and bringing her to a similar climax. She could _feel_ him pulsing inside of her, warm and wet, and she began to feel a fuzzy light-headed sensation take her over from her toes to the top of her head.

"Oh god _yes_," she breathed as he lay against her back, pressing just enough of his weight into her to make her feel incredibly secure in the orgasmic afterglow.

And even as Lily receded from her physical form, falling into a sleepy, silent haze, Hermione retook control over her body and even the brown curly hedge of hair did not appear to to perturb the man who lay against her, gently running his fingers over it. Something to do with the intensity of their connection just made it seem right somehow, and when she brought one hand down lightly on top of one of the hands that still steadied the remainder of his weight against the cushion of the couch, he did not flinch.

Pulling his wand out with his free hand, he silently increased the size of the couch so that the cushions extended into a chaise lounge that was as wide as a loveseat, calling over his discarded cloak to act as a makeshift blanket for the two of them as they spooned against one another and recovered. The silence was long, but there was no urgency in it.

"Well," he said somewhat awkwardly, his arm draped lazily around her, "That was-"

"Extraordinary," Hermione said in an almost reverent voice, "Absolutely extraordinary."

_God damn it_, Severus thought even as he allowed her to lazily intertwine his fingers with hers, _I am so fucking fucked_.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: The Dragon's Lament**

Draco Malfoy whimpered in his sleep.

_Pain. White-hot and agonizing. The sickening crushing sensation of scaly coils wrapped tightly around his torso and up his shoulder, holding his arm in place. The digging agony of fangs deep under his skin as a pale, unearthly smooth hand dug the point of a wand into his forearm with measured precision. _

_He could smell his flesh burning, smoke rising to fill the room as the high, clear voice sang a dark spell in a hissing, ancient tongue._

He had thought that the Dark Mark was merely a sign of Voldemort's elite. Something cool and Dark to legitimize his power and status. He was wrong.

_"You now belong to me, little one," the voice had whispered in a cold imitation of familiarity. _

_His Aunt Bella had laughed shrilly and congratulated him as he puked on the floor when her master had finished on him. Apparently, most newly minted Death Eaters could not hold their stomachs longer than partway through the branding process. _

He turned on his side, fighting the sheets as he failed to find comfort, his arm throbbing as his mind flashed bright with dark memories.

_"You should have seen your dear father," she'd crowed, eyes flashing madly, "The pathetic worm was only beginning his initiation when he brought up his lunch on the Master's shoes. He had quite a time licking them clean."_

_Draco had been shaking but proudly held up his head at the praise of knowing he had surpassed his father. _

_She'd taken him by the chin, then, pulling his face up to meet the mad gaze and wild black curls that framed her face, which gave her a feral but powerful look. _

_"You may have your father's foppish face, but your heart is pure Black, just like your mother. You are so like her. You have the potential for greatness, Draco. Don't disappoint the Master, and in doing so, make me proud as the children I could not bear would have made me proud."_

_Her eyes softened, then, and she placed her arms around his shoulders as he struggled not to quiver at the shooting pain that pulsed outward through his body from the raw Mark upon his arm and she lowered her voice so that only he could hear her, "Now then, let's get you cleaned up and presentable. You'll be sitting at the high table with the rest of our elite tonight, and I want Master to know that he has chosen well for his youngest recruit. Your father begged, you know, when he was your age. Pathetic man! But you, you are better than he ever could hope to be."_

Unable to drift back to sleep, Draco opened his eyes to the cozy dark of Rosmerta's bedroom. His mind was still stuck in the past as he blinked his eyes blearily.

_When his mother had found out about the Mark, she had been beside herself. _

_"What do you mean you took the Mark?!" she had screamed in terror as he had rolled up the sleeve, wincing as the fabric brushed over the festering design carved deeply into his skin, and then to her sister she'd cried, "Bella, how could you allow this?! He's just a boy!"_

No. Not a boy. He was a man. He had suffered and given of his flesh to gain that right. Auntie Bella knew that, she understood. She defended his decision fiercely and his mother, as always, eventually capitulated.

And he still had so much to do to prove himself. There were so many counting on his actions, and though he was afraid, he knew that he had been building up to this point for years. Only someone as powerful, as sly as Voldemort could control the wild cards of the world when the Ministry had continually turned a blind eye or outright encouraged change and even integration between the magical world and its inferiors. The Dark Lord himself was fond of reminding everyone of how much those muggles needed muzzles to keep themselves in line. The blood spilled, the enslavement of their fellows, the almost world-ending wars that had been raged for petty reasons such as the color of one's skin or which supposed god they served. If the muggles liked to serve gods, then why not Voldemort? He would soon be immortal, all powerful and unquestioned. The muggles would _thank _him for stepping forward.

Then there was the technology that kept them teetering on the brink of complete extinction. No, these were not the sorts of beings that you wanted knowing how to use magic or figuring out how to enslave those with pure bloodlines into providing heinous hybrids of technology and magical power. The magical world had been around for an incredibly long time, but for some reason it seemed that everyone had forgotten the plagues and the Dark Ages, courtesy of the moronic muggle horde, or more recently, the evil of the Axis powers as they sent millions to death for no good reason. Extensive muggle history was not taught in magical schools but Voldemort was not shy about explaining the stupidity of the muggles as they dropped balls of death on their enemies without thinking that something far away could ever affect them, even as poisons leached into the water, the air, the plants and animals with devastating effects upon the planet long after the explosion was a mere memory.

Adding such barbaric bloodlines to the noble houses of magic would surely end in disaster, and there was no real way to sort it out. So the best way to stop the encroachment of muggle blood and ideals would be to weed it out from the magical and then put the muggles in their ordained place. The Dark Lord's ideals made sense. So much more sense than allowing centaurs and house elves and muggles to continue to change the world until wizards were ousted completely under the chaos of hooves and toes and sneakers.

Draco's eyes narrowed and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He knew the difference between right and wrong. No matter what anyone said, he knew he wasn't evil.

I_t wasn't bigotry if it was true. _

_It wasn't bullying if they had proven their inferiority through their own actions. _

_It wasn't murder if it was a war. _

_It wasn't evil if it was right._

Even more than that, Draco wanted to prove just how elite he was, how unlike his father he could be if he were able to stretch his wings outside of Lucius Malfoy's shadow. Once his father was retrieved from Azkaban with the others, Draco would watch with cold eyes and a rigidly detached distaste as his father bowed and scraped, his haggard hollow face full of mad servility ripe for the amusement of the Dark Lord.

Draco dressed quietly in the dark, smoothing his green and silver tie against his chest as he glanced back only momentarily at the sleeping form still breathing deeply under the plush comforter.

He wondered, and not for the first time, if Potter ever wondered if he was on the wrong side. Once Dumbledore's carefully stacked house of cards fell, he knew, it would be hard not to realize just whom had made a fatal mistake by throwing in their lot with the wrong group.

He quietly padded down the pitch dark steps using his Hand of Glory to light the way, pocketing it once more when he reached the wine cellar and its enchanted blue flames. A part of him wished that he could simply stay the night spooned up against the shapely body of his favorite diversion, but he had appearances to keep and new plans to formulate. It would be hard to keep his head straight while distracted by Rosmerta's attentions.

Draco would not be denied his place in the new world to come.

No, he would _not _squander his Black heart_. _


	28. Chapter 28

_Author's note: One of the things a lot of people might be wondering is why Evil Bastard Snape is not nearly as evil or bastardy right now. Which is a fair question. But I think that it has a lot to do with the fact that this is a guy who has been shown very little actual kindness in his life. He probably suffers from what the muggles call Clinical Depression. He was routinely starved and abused in childhood and his adulthood hasn't been much better. Being cared about is not something that he is used to. It's not something that he's developed any sort of protection or mental wall against. This is totally new territory for him and I'm sure that he not only feels strongly to give himself to it, but also a deep terror from the loss of control._

_There have been multiple scientific studies with primates that show that baby monkeys will prefer a soft terrycloth "mother" that does not provide food to a hard metallic "mother" that dispenses formula. Some will starve themselves, choosing comfort over food. Back in the middle ages, a king who wanted to know what the language of God locked ten babies in a tower where they were never touched or held and merely fed. All of them died. Nowadays, preemie babies are subjected to "Kangaroo Care" which keeps them close to their parents' bodies on a regular basis. Regular touch has been known to lower mortality rates almost to zero. Love and touch are some of the most powerful needs that humans require to thrive, and that's not just babies or children- all of us need it. So I'm not saying that Snape is going to turn into a happy, jolly person. But there is no way NOT to be affected by freely given kindness...and maybe even a just a hint of love._

_I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I know he would._

* * *

**Chapter 28: Research and Tea**

Hermione awoke to a strange noise buzzing in her ear.

_Is that….snoring?_

She opened her eyes slightly, and her eyes went wide. She was surrounded by bookshelves.

_God, the smell of paper is heavenly_.

She was still lying on the transfigured couch-bed and the black cloak was still largely draped over her like a heavy blanket. But she found herself alone.

"Lily?" she asked aloud, but heard nothing except for a quiet snuffling.

This was a new development. Lily was _sleeping_.

_But where was…Sev? _

She still got a funny twinge in her stomach calling him that herself, even in her head. But the truth was, it was like he was two different people. Well, maybe three. Four? There was the Evil Professor mask, the Stoic And Summarily Disliked Order Member Mask, the Pretend But Not So Voldemort Would Notice Death Eater Mask, and while she didn't think that this was necessarily a mask, it _was_ a puzzle- one that she resolved to solve once and for all. It was hard to reconcile this new information about him with the snide, swooping Bat of the Dungeons. And did he feel this way about _her_ as well, or just Lily? He said he had wanted to help, but what were his _real _motives? Could she even trust him?

First things were first. She desperately needed to pee again, and, if possible get showered for the morning- at least she _thought_ that it was the morning.

Now, if she could only find her knickers.

_Ugh, do I really have to get up?_

She rolled over with a slight groan, and something rustled against her wrist as she flung it out to her side.

She turned her head to look, even though her fingers had slid over to feel the creases of the paper. A note.

_Well of course he's the kind of person who leaves notes. Much easier than talking to people._

She unfolded the page and read:

_**Hermione (and Lily, I suppose, as well),**_

_**I am going to do some research on potions that could have the same effects as what you described before. I shall also be looking for documents of instances in which the Anima Voti has been used when one person loses their physical form but the other does not. I am not quite sure whether there is any precedence whatsoever, but it's worth looking so we can develop a plan that won't involve you transforming in the middle of class or during a Hogsmeade trip with your friends.**_

_**I have left the door open to the chamber you were in before so that you can use the facilities to your liking. I have also ordered some food for you. Everything is under the lidded plates on the study table. Once you are satiated, you may feel free to peruse my library and see if anything looks useful for obtaining the information we need, as I am sure that regardless of whether or not I ask for your assistance, you will nevertheless endeavor to do research of your own, so I shall be glad for your help.**_

_**Please do not leave my offices until I have spoken with you.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**SS**_

Hermione smiled at his neat and classy handwriting. It certainly was refreshing to receive an almost friendly note, after her fear of being shouted at until she was a puddle on the floor, which was what she had been expecting, regardless of whether or not she was actually at fault.

_Ron sure could use a couple pointers from Professor Snape._

She no sooner thought this before a bright blush burned across her cheeks as she thought of some of the _other things_ that Ron could probably learn. It was a good idea that Lily still appeared to be asleep. It was nice not to be jarred in and out of her own body. She'd never taken much time to think about how important it was to have a physical body, but after being rudely pushed aside so many times these past couple of days, she savored it all the more now.

Oh well, first things were first. She walked out through the library door and just as the note had said, the little round door was open. Once she was washed up and ready, Hermione pulled back her hair as best she could with a ribbon and returned to Snape's personal library. The room seemed even bigger on second inspection, towering stacks of books teetering up into the distant ceiling like skyscrapers.

She sat at the small desk and ate quickly, noticing a small green and silver box sitting on the far corner of the table next to the desk lamp. Holding a piece of toast between her teeth, she pulled the box closer and read the small silver letters on the top.

_**If you wish to read up on a subject or three.**_

_**This box is sorted alphabetically,**_

_**Breathe out a keyword on the card that you need,**_

_**And your title shall be brought to you quickly with speed.**_

_**If you are unsure and do not know what's best,**_

_**You may simply ask for what we would suggest.**_

_**The card in the back is the one you will need.**_

_**Simply breathe out a query on this card to proceed.**_

Hermione's eyes widened. What a useful system, indeed! Scarfing down her toast and slightly choking on a stray crumb, she guzzled down some lukewarm pumpkin juice and patted a fist across her chest to stop coughing. Once she had recovered, she pulled open the box, noticing that inside were assorted pieces of golden cardstock sorted in order by the letters of the alphabet. Tabs stuck out at staggered intervals, showing each letter.

Hermione flipped through the _A_s first, looking for _Anima Voti_. She found plenty of books that started with _Anima_, but nothing seemed to match _Voti_. She wasn't discouraged, after all, it would have been too easy if her search had ended there. Next, she looked under _Vows_ and found a couple titles that seemed like they might be useful. She breathed on each card, trying a variety of words (as the rhyme had not specified what would cause the books to be delivered), but she found that the cards responded to anything from "please bring this title" to "please deliver." The most important part was the "please." With each request, she heard a click and a light whirring noise as a book pulled itself from its place in the stacks and floated down onto her desk.

Eventually, there were so many books on the table that she'd moved the empty breakfast dishes and remaining food carefully on the floor next to the desk to make room. All things considered, she was in heaven. She'd found a couple small rolls of blank parchment in a drawer, along with a spare quill, and was using them to make notes.

This was her element- the books stacked up like a fortress wall made of knowledge, the comfortable, well-worn wooden seat that seemed to almost conform against her body as she perused the pages before her. She'd draped his cloak over her shoulders, as the open door did add a bit of a draft to the room, but other than that, she felt incredibly comfortable.

In fact, the only thing that might make her more comfortable would be-

"-Tea, Granger?" the voice came from behind her and she started, turning in her chair as she held a finger to mark her spot in the book she was currently looking at ("_Vow Vernacular: The Importance of Nuance in Phrasing Magic_").

She couldn't help smile at the puzzled look he had on his face. It seemed so...unlike him, relaxed even. No one would believe her if she tried to tell them that _Professor Snape_ of all people was looking at her in a goodnatured sort of way. They would pronounce her mad and not listen to another word until she'd been dragged off to the Infirmary. He quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked as though he had just read her thoughts (_but maybe he did read my thoughts- he can do occlumency_), but he waited patiently for her to put down her book and walk over to him.

"This way," he said evenly, and she followed him through a darkened hallway into another small alcove that held a tiny kitchen and dining area. The dining spot was more of a nook than anything- a tall table pushed up against a wall with two stools tucked under it. A teapot, sugar, small milk pitcher, spoons and cups sat on a small metal tray.

They both set about making their individual cups to their liking, and then both sipped slowly at the steaming liquid for long minutes until Hermione finally opened her eyes and looked curiously at him, wondering what she could say.

"So…." he said hesitantly. He looked so awkward that it was actually kind of adorable.

"So….?" she couldn't help but smile in earnest.

"Stop me if you've heard this one," he said mildly, "But have you heard the joke about the girl who drank something funny, and somehow found herself possessed by the childhood friend of her teacher? It's supposed to be so convoluted that even I don't know the punch line."

She burst out laughing, which was unfortunate, as she was still sipping tea. It burned in her nose and sinuses and Snape had to conjure a napkin for her to keep her from leaking tea all over the floor.

"You're….you're _being humorous!_" she said, once she stopped coughing.

"That is, I have heard, the main _purpose_ of joking, is it not?" Again, that maddening eyebrow was raised. He was _teasing_ her.

_No one is going to believe this._

"I've been doing some research using your library," she said, trying not to be a spoilsport, but she was still excited about finally feeling like she was being useful, "And I don't know exactly if it involves the Anima Voti, but the last book on Vows that I was looking through suggested that most Vows only fully work when both people are alive. If one person dies of age or other natural causes, the Vow is severed completely and becomes null and void. But I was thinking that perhaps the connection between you and Lily is different somehow- and I think it has something to do with Harry and the Killing Curse."

"Continue," he said seriously, crossing his arms. It was amazing how a simple change in body posture could make someone look so menacing.

"So what I was thinking, and I'll still need to confirm it with at least one other source, is that perhaps the killing curse (which uses magic to kill) along with Lily's desire to protect her son might have created...for lack of a better word- a magical afterimage. It's not a ghost or anything like that- it's like an echo of a soul's imprint on the world," Hermione stopped and looked at Snape, wondering if he had something to add.

"That would make sense," he said slowly, after deliberating for a few moments as if deciding whether to tell her, "When..._it_ happened, I knew. I knew where she was, despite the fact that she was supposed to be hidden, and despite the fact that we had not spoken properly in _years_. I was able to get to her moments after it had happened. For lack of a better word, she _called_ me. It was almost like the Dark Mark, only not at all painful. I just wanted to...be there with her. And then I was. But it was too late."

Hermione felt a pang of sorrow for him as she watched his eyes go out of focus, remembering.

"How is...Lily?" he asked suddenly, and a small line twitched under one eye, a sign, Hermione realized, that he was concerned but was trying not to show it.

"Well, truth be told," Hermione said sheepishly, "I think she's...sleeping."

"Really?" he seemed surprised.

"Yeah, she was snoring kind of loudly when I woke up and everything."

Snape coughed into his tea in the exact sort of way that seemed suspiciously like an attempt to hide a chuckle.

"At least _she_ doesn't have crazy snarly bed-head," Hermione said hyperbolically, "Every day, it's like an epic battle fighting against a lion's mane of frizz."

Another cough. Hermione could not believe that it was possible to choke on tea so frequently.

"Maybe that's why you're…._in Gryffindor,_" Snape had to turn away then, making small, badly concealed gasping noises, and all she could see was the back of him shaking.

_He's laughing_. _He's actually laughing. What is the world coming to?_

Hermione Granger had to pinch herself twice to make sure she wasn't still dreaming.

And Severus Snape laughed.

And Lily Evans slept on.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29: More Questions, Fewer Answers**

Hermione could not stop stealing glances at him (what was she going to call him after all of this? Professor? Sev? Just Snape? What?) from over the top of her book. It was a habit she'd developed in the school's library when she wanted to look at Ron without him noticing she was looking at him. There was something about that look of concentration on his face, especially when he was actually doing his own homework instead of just copying hers, that was incredibly endearing. She pulled her knees up so they pushed between the desk she sat behind and the book cradled open at her chest. The scrunched pose was so familiar that she almost forgot that she wasn't about to see her friends round the corner to drag her out of her studies at any moment.

_Ron...Harry….did they even realize she was gone **yet**?_

She didn't want it to hurt as much as it did to imagine that they didn't care enough to notice her absence for an entire weekend. It was Sunday now, she realized as she stared at the tall, black grandfather clock standing against the wall next to the entrance to the library. In addition to the normal minute and hour hands, it had a top rotating part that showed the phases of the moon and a rotating clockwork window at the bottom of the clock face that displayed the date and day of the week. There did not appear to be any metallic weights to keep it wound, so she imagined it probably used some sort of spell to keep it running and in order.

_There's still so much magic I want to know more about._

She glanced up again, and she caught him catching her eyes as he looked back at her over a long roll of parchment that he'd pulled from an ancient area of the library, which appeared not to be a part of the golden cards retrieval system. Both quickly looked away, but both had noticed the other. As he sat back against the velvet couch with the papers, he held his wand casually in one hand as it curled comfortably on the armrest and she felt suddenly very naked in a completely non-sexual sort of way. She looked away quickly, pulling the book up higher so he couldn't see her blushing at having been caught.

_My wand. I've never been away from it this long before._

She felt her hand twitch in the memory of its weight, her fingers wrapping instinctively around empty air in frustration. It was a comforting feeling to harness the power within her and she felt somehow..._less_ without it.

"Penny for your thoughts, Granger?" his voice had a sneering edge to it, but it was softer than usual, and she knew he was trying to be genial.

_He's just being polite. He doesn't actually want to know what I'm thinking about._

Seeing him laugh seemed to be more embarrassing to Snape than the fact that she'd seen him in various stages of undress

_And I've seen both more than I'd have ever imagined was possible._

Exactly what was their relationship, anyway? He wasn't just a professor who shot her withering looks in class for always raising her hand. He wasn't just a member of the Order who tolerated her presence, or generally ignored her altogether. And as far as the whole sex thing went, well, she was 17 and as far as the Wizarding world was concerned she was an adult. But exactly what was she hoping for, assuming that at some point it would be all over? She had been thrust into this situation where she was forced to redefine the lines of relation to people she had thought were established, familiar objects on the complicated playing field of roles in relation to her and she found herself less than comforted by the fact that this was merely the most recent crazy thing that could get her killed, or worse...expelled. While she'd been thrust into plenty of life-threatening circumstances each year she'd come to school at Hogwarts, this felt different, somehow, than anything she had experienced before.

_How many more times until this sort of thing gets me killed? Until magic is the death of me?_

Lily was silent. Hermione could hear even breathing that was not her own lightly whispering in her ears.

_Still sleeping._

"Granger?" his voice was dangerously close, and when she looked up, she realized that he had crossed the room silently and was lightly resting his left hand on the desk, bending forward so that his face was closer than she would otherwise be comfortable with. He'd left his wand on the armrest of the couch. Did this mean...could he….trust her?

_How could this man be so infuriatingly quiet?_

He was looking down at her with a strange look on his face. She couldn't place it. It was something like a grimace but not exactly disparaging.

_Is that...discomfort?_

He cleared his throat.

"You may want to...er..._reposition_ yourself," he said uncomfortably as his eyes shifted to his left, "As from where I am sitting, well, I can see….things."

Hermione yelped involuntarily and pulled down into a standard sitting position, smoothing her gray skirt. Her face was ablaze, knowing that he'd probably seen her knickers from across the room. She tried not to notice how his lips twitched a little as though he was fighting a grin. He covered his mouth and coughed as though he suddenly had gotten something caught in his throat, but she'd noticed. He couldn't hide his little trick from her again.

_Why am I getting embarrassed about him seeing my underthings, anyway? It's not like he hasn't…._

She couldn't even finish the thought.

"Why do you do that, anyway?" she said bluntly, instead of continuing her patently inappropriate train of thought.

"I am not sure that I know of _what_ you are speaking," he replied, clearing his throat a little more loudly than what sounded natural.

"You always hide your smiles. You know. The real ones," she said, and she frowned, wondering why anyone would do such a thing.

"I…" the word hung in the air.

"It's almost as though you're unable to let yourself be happy. Ever," she said stiffly, and even though she attempted to sound genial, her voice came out a little hurt.

Regardless of how intensely surreal her last 48 hours had been, a part of her wanted to think that she wasn't just some random diversion that had fallen into his lap. That it meant more than...well…_nothing_.

"S...Sir, if I may be so bold, I just can't imagine anyone living a life without even being able to-"

"_Severus_," he interrupted, his voice tired.

"Wha-?"

"When you're in my offices, you can call me….Severus," he said uncomfortably, rubbing the bridge of his nose as though he was mentally berating himself.

"Then…._Severus_," her stomach lurched at the unfamiliar familiarity and her cheeks flamed as she realized that perhaps this meant that what had happened wasn't just..._nothing_...to him.

She stuck out her hand, holding his gaze.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

"Not Granger then. _Hermione_," she said simply, placing the book carefully onto the desk, and almost fell off her chair when he took her hand and shook it.

"_Hermione_," he breathed back, and his eyes darted away from her face for a moment before she caught them again with her own. And it was with their hands still clasped, looking pointedly at one another, that she gave him the brightest, most genuine smile she could muster.

His eyes widened momentarily as though in fear, and she saw the corners of his mouth begin turning upward. Not even a moment later, the hand not holding hers instinctively tried to rise from the table to cover it, and she shot out her free hand to grab his wrist, which almost toppled him face first over the desk had she not taken on his weight and shifted it so he was suspended by the force of her grip on his hand and arm. She didn't realize she was this strong and something told her that he was thinking much the same thing.

"No," she said firmly as he struggled weakly to pull away, "You don't have to hide it. Not from Lily. And...not from me."

"And where is Lily, anyway? Did she put you up to this?" he was trying for misdirection, to throw her off, but she held on tightly.

"She's sleeping," she replied simply, and then she caught the smallest of grins whispering across his lips.

_I win. Yesssss!_

"Tell me, Hermione," he said emphasizing her name and his face was drawing closer to hers, "Do you mind if I test a theory of my own?"

_Holyshitwhatisheevendoing-!_

He'd just given her a glimpse into something secret about himself, even if it was something as simple as a genuine smile that wasn't tinged with darkness and directly the result of some sort of student-induced schadenfreude. She couldn't deny him a little trust on her part. But why was it so hard?

She bit her lip, refusing to break eye contact. She would not be weak. She would not betray him.

"I-it w-won't hurt, will it?" she stammered as he moved even closer, his nose brushing against the side of hers, the features of his face growing slightly blurry in its proximity.

"I should think it would be the opposite of painful," he said softly, and she could feel small shallow breaths of air against her cheek as he spoke.

And as she promised herself that she wouldn't flinch, that she wouldn't break her gaze upon him no matter what, his lips were suddenly pressed firmly against hers and she couldn't help but close her eyes as she expected to be abruptly shunted from her body with the desire that awoke within the pit of her stomach.

She opened her eyes.

He was still there, his lips against hers. She was still herself.

_I'm still me! Still in my body! So that must mean….when Lily's sleeping….OH MY GOD THIS IS HUGE!_

Before he realized what she was about to do, she had dropped his hands and thrown her arms around his neck with elation as he fell forward over the desk into her, the chair tipping back over onto the floor.

Hermione had expected pain from the fall, but when she felt nothing, she opened her eyes. She was still wrapping her arms tightly around him and when she snuck a look up at his face, she saw an expression of intense concentration on his face. It was then, she realized that they were suspended strangely in the air, the chair behind her on the floor. He made a motion and she noticed his wand fly to him in a similar motion as it had in the bathroom.

_He's doing wandless bodily suspension magic. On both of us. Holy crap._

The concentration melted from his face as the wand found his fingers, and he moved it silently in a complicated wrist-flicking motion, pulling himself into a standing position and using his free hand to slide under and cradle her bottom and lower back with his arm as she continued to hold him tightly around his neck. She hoped that it wasn't hurting him, but he showed no sign of pain or discomfort beyond the sound of his heart beating heavily as she rested her ear against his chest.

When he'd walked lightly over to the velvet couch as though still walking upon the air, he set her down gently and looked away as she flattened her skirt, which had flipped up yet again in the kerfluffle.

"I'm sorry...Hermione," he said, after a long moment, "It was..._wrong_ of me...to take advantage."

"But-" she gasped as he silently took a seat next to her and looked her straight in the eye.

"It was not my intention to upset you. I needed to see if you would still..._change_...if Lily was still asleep," he looked at her and she could see the lines softening around the edges of his eyes, a sign that beyond the formal words he was honestly attempting to comfort her.

"S….Severus," she finally managed, trying to still her pounding heart, "I wasn't upset...I was just.._surprised_? Er..._pleasantly_ surprised?"

_Ugh, I'm making things worse. Stupid, stupid Hermione, why can't I just shut my big mouth?_

She noticed then that he was breathing rapidly, and his hand was quivering on his lap.

"It's not-" he started and he looked up at her plaintively, "It's not just about Lily. This concerns you too. I've never felt…been allowed to...no, I mustn't-"

"_Severus_," she whispered, and he shivered as the word escaped her lips.

"I...I can't-" his hands fidgeted at his robes as though he was about to bolt from the room and he attempted to look anywhere but at her face.

"But I can," Hermione heard herself say before she realized what she was about to say.

_But I **wanted** to say it. I **want** to see that smile again._

She pushed herself up onto her knees so that she was looking down at him and before he could properly pull away to escape, she'd grabbed him behind his hair around the top of his neck, cradling his head with one hand and she tipped up his chin with the other so that their noses were touching against one another yet again.

"Look at me," she entreated, "_Please_."

He met her eyes with a dark, fearful look, but his pupils were wide with desire.

"_Please_," he moaned almost silently.

"All good theories require many tests, after all," she said breathily, and she kissed him.

_Oh my god, what am I doing?!_

Lily breathed deeply in her ear, still deeply asleep as he melted into her and Hermione felt his smile break against her mouth.

_Oh hell yes._

"Another," she murmured softly against him, and she couldn't help but give a smile of her own when he indulged her request.


	30. Chapter 30

_Author's Note: I promise this one will be shorter than the last one. Just wanted to express my excitement for finishing CHAPTER FREAKING THIRTY (HOLY CRAP!). I promise that I have a concrete idea of where all of this crazy, messy plot is going, and yes, it will be (mostly) compliant with the actual books. How will I do this? Well, not really sure. But I'm going to keep working hard and continue on my chapter-a-day write/edit/update schedule. As always, your comments and feedback really help keep me motivated! Thank you all!_

**Chapter 30: Love to Hate Me and Hate to Love Me**

He'd never seen much reason for why students engaged in…._snogging_. Yet, what other word could he use to describe what he was doing, right now, with Gr...with _Hermione?_ He searched his vocabulary for another, more suitable word. One that sounded far less ridiculous than _snog_. Severus Snape did not engage in _snogging._ Why, if anyone found out, he would never live it down. He could imagine the jokes, the jeers, the…..

_But it feels amazing. Bugger what it's called._

He couldn't help but notice that she tasted distinctly different than Lily, which was puzzling as the physical body that Lily was using to manifest through belonged to Hermione. He had expected Lily's presence to be more of a layer over Hermione's form, but that was apparently not how the magic worked.

_It's magic. Since when has it ever made logical sense? Or, for that matter, when has relating to others ever made logical sense either?_

This is one reason why potions had always made complete logical sense. You followed the steps, added the correctly prepared ingredients and you got a reliable result. He understood the idea of putting something in and getting a known result as long as you did it all correctly. What he didn't understand was when he worked his ass off and received zero benefit or, even worse, an outright detriment. Or when he did absolutely nothing and suddenly something amazing happened (which, he admitted, probably encompassed two or three experiences in his entire life, including this one). More often than not, he practically gave his life to achieve success and still got screwed over anyway.

_It's not like it's going to get better. I've basically been marked to become a murderer, regardless of what Albus says, and afterwards, it's just damage control until Potter saves the day and everyone brands him the hero. And that's just the best case scenario._

She drew away from him and gave him a concerned look. How had he not noticed before just how _large_ her eyes were? No wonder nothing got past her.

A hand, _her hand_, running along his jawline. Why couldn't he stop his body from shivering at her touch? He'd endured torture without so much as twitching a muscle.

_More. More. More. More._

It thrummed in his heart like a frantic bird against a wicker cage. How could a simple touch do this to him? He had so many boundaries, so many walls, and one touch simply knocked them asunder as though they were nothing.

He'd closed his eyes again. There was nothing but the feeling of her soft hand cradling his jaw, sliding flush against the top of his neck, her nose nuzzling against his softly, their foreheads touching. Her hand had slid down, now, tracing over the folds in his coat firmly and he wanted to tear each layer off so she could press her fingers against the hollow part next to his collarbone, skin to skin.

"Hermione-" he began, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

"I know, we shouldn't, etc, etc," she said softly, and then added fiercely, "Do you think that you're the only one who is forced to put on the brave face? Do think you're the only person who has to act like a bloody mature adult while everyone else gets to goof off and have fun?"

"_Fun." Is that what they're calling it now?_

He smirked despite himself and she scowled a little, as though she thought that he didn't believe her.

"And do you know what the funniest thing is about all of this?" she continued, eyes beginning to shine with moisture as she locked her eyes upon his, "Out of everyone in this entire bloody school, guess who I end up empathizing with the most? _You_. When I think on it, you're _always_ saving us when we get into trouble. You're always warning us not to put our noses in dangerous places. You try to do it in the most horrible way possible so that Harry will be blinded by anger and hatred and not know that you're actually helping. It's genius, really."

She looked away then, and his stomach lurched as he suddenly feared she'd run from the room, but when she looked back, her eyes were bright with bravely held-back tears.

"Why is it so important to you for everyone to hate you? You act like you've never known even the smallest amount of love in your life!"

He couldn't summon the anger that normally served him so well to mask his pain and loneliness. It scared him more than he was willing to admit. His back arched and bowed in the memory of past tortures and he scrunched up his body against the armrest of the couch as though to take up as little space as possible.

_She'll never understand. Even Lily couldn't understand. Her idea of poverty was some quaint Dickensian character-building exercise, not the hell of starvation, neglect and abuse that it was for me. I still can't eat more than a couple simple, bland things without feeling ill because I was never exposed to them as a child. I was born warped and broken and beaten into still smaller and smaller pieces by my so-called family, then my so-called friends, then my so-called Master. No one can __**like**__, much less __**love**_ _a person like that. Especially not…._

"You flinched. Again-" she gasped as the realization hit her, "I guessed right, didn't I?"

_Bingo. You win a prize._

"Well, aren't you just the most _brilliant _witch of all time? It only took you six years to figure out," he tried for a sarcastic bite in his voice, but it just came out worn and tired.

"But...didn't your parents…?"

"Were you referring to the violent drunk or the one who spent years trying to suck every bit of self-worth from my soul? The one who used to throw knives and forks at me and shout at me to eat spoiled food that she'd made for me? How many times I had to steal food or what passed as clothing from the rubbish heaps around town and the subsequent humiliating nicknames I earned and was beaten for having because I was "embarrassing" them? The one who shoved my face to the bottom of a toilet bowl until I thought I'd drown because I'd walked into a room in a manner he found _disrespectful_?" it was like he was reciting some tired old story that from someone else's life.

_It's not her fault that I'm so fucked up. The anger is much safer, though. So familiar and powerful._

"Or how about all the times I was burned, poked at like a frog in anatomy class, tortured and experimented on at _good old Hogwarts_? You know all the things you've been called by your enemies here? Imagine that multiplied by a thousand, with a couple extra hundred cruelties created specifically to single me out, all creatively cooked up by _your_ Mr. Potter's father and his _little friends_, and you might get some idea exactly what I ate, slept and breathed every single fucking day," his voice was rising, and her eyes were wide and he knew that he was ruining everything.

_She'll hate me forever now. Maybe it's better like this. She'll be safer this way, too._

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but there are scars that you can see, too, just so you know what you're asking about," he snapped, and when she tried to open her mouth-to respond?- to protest?-he just continued with his tirade, "THIS is the man you're trying to humanize, THIS is the body and the mind that you're trying to empathize with. I am no saint, and everyone else seems to realize this except for you, Hermione. I am no special savior in this war like your precious Potter. I'm a monster serving his penance for monstrous deeds. Remember, Lily is as she is now because of ME. It's all my fault. Everything. That's why I deserve all of _**this**_."

_I'll show her the worst of me. She'll never want to look at me again. Just like everyone else._

Standing abruptly, he pulled his wand up to his chest and without another word he waved it in a turning, flicking motion, and each silver button slid out of its place and he waved his wand so that his jacket flew easily over to drape on the armrest of the couch. He did the same for the white long sleeved jacket underneath and the undershirt under that. He turned around and gave her a full view of the full damage along his back in the bright, sobering light of the library, glancing back over his shoulder to gauge her reaction.

Hermione gasped and this time he smiled bitterly without any attempt to hide it.

"Do you think I wear a coat that buttons up my throat as a fashion statement?" he rumbled menacingly.

Old white ridges of scar tissue ran down either side of the knotted range of his spine, winding like long, white worms that seemed to bend slightly as he breathed. Light pink scars of assorted sizes, from small, black-dotted points, to one that looked like very old teeth marks lay upon his lower back and shoulders. He pulled his long hair to the side so she could see the scars of the deep cut marks at the nape of his neck.

"These dots of ink in my skin?" he raged, "Those are from getting stabbed in the back, _yes literally_, by quill pens. But they were just _fooling_, didn't you know. I was told that I shouldn't take it so _personally, just boys being boys_. Those long ones? My _father_, if you could call him that, had a belt with a hook on it that he just _loved _to use on me, so frequently it left _furrows_ in my skin. He was very inventive when it came to pain and humiliation, you know. Oh, yes, also drinking every cent away, that too. Not so much in the love and providing for his family area, though."

Hermione looked vaguely ill as he turned around and faced her.

_See? Disgusted by me, just as I thought she would be._

"Do they...still hurt you?" she inquired gently, but her eyes were fiery and fierce.

He had been expecting disgust. Or revulsion. He could handle fear. But…sympathy? Anger on his behalf?

_No. I am imagining it._

"Most of these are old," he said sharply, uncomfortable under her burning gaze, "But I did recently receive a hex burn on my leg from a particularly _troublesome _fifth year Ravenclaw student last week. I wasn't fast enough to fully block it and, well, let's just say that Brody Steeplehouse isn't going to be having any Hogsmeade privileges until he's fifty years old if I have anything to say about it. But yes, some of my older injuries have magical components that act up under certain...circumstances."

He didn't want to go into detail about them and dredge up old and painful memories, but for once, Hermione seemed to understand that he didn't want to divulge the specifics.

"That's…..that's….." she sputtered, her hair appearing to stand on end, power crackling through it as her eyes burned so brightly he became convinced she was about to burst into flame, which, considering that they were in a library with lots of flammable parchment and paper, was increasingly worrisome.

_That's right. Get angry at me. Tell me you hate me. Push me away._

"_Severus," _she said quietly through her teeth.

She stood, facing him, her hands balled in fists.

_Yes, now run off and tell your friends how much of a bastard I am. How much I deserved these abuses, simply for existing. Just like everyone else in my entire fucking life._

"That's...**simply**…_UNFORGIVABLE_!" she roared, and he stumbled backwards as her power pushed around his body like a hot, living force, his eyes wide in surprise.

_She's not mad __**at**_ _me. She's mad __**for**_ _me. That's…..impossible._

Before he could properly move out of the way, Hermione practically flew at him, wrapping her arms around him into a fierce hug. He could feel her hair crackling against his skin, but it did not pain him at all. If anything, it was exactly like the sort of comfortable heat from putting on freshly laundered clothing. He felt hot tears on his chest as she buried her face into him and, not exactly knowing what he should do, he lightly wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin over the top of her head, feeling a strange sort of deja vu as he did so.

_Lily. This is just like back then….only somehow different._

"This is why you got so good at wandless magic. Why you're so accomplished at potions. Why you can cast spells without speaking," Hermione raged against him, "And you have had no one to talk to? No one who knew? No one to defend or protect you?"

"Albus knew, but other things were more...important," he murmured, closing his eyes. Something about being touched and comforted by her made his pulse slow immediately, even though he normally flinched at the slightest touch from anyone.

"What could be more important than protecting a student from….this?!" she touched one of the small half circle scars on his upper shoulder, running her finger around the perimeter.

_Anything else. Everything else. __**Everyone-bloody-else.**_

"I was in Slytherin, a half-blood, unpopular," he said simply, as though that explained everything.

"That excuses **NOTHING**," she spat, and something in him broke down when he felt her raging _for him_.

"Just ask Lily," he said, his voice catching, "Even she suffered, just for knowing me. It wasn't Potter and his goons, no, they had _me_ to focus on. It was the other girls, the ones who were supposed to be her friends. They burned her hand once just for touching my shoulder. Said they needed to _disinfect_ her. Stole her clothes and transfigured them green. Wrote nasty things in pen on her face when she was sleeping. Once, one of them managed to cast this hex that left her with scaly skin and a forked tongue for a week until Madame Pomfrey was able to finally reverse the effect."

"I just...I never…" Hermione's pain was palpable in her voice.

He felt her move her head to her left again, as though listening for..._what exactly?_

_No wonder she's in Gryffindor. Even when things get difficult for her, she's always thinking about the troubles of others, no matter how much she should be worrying for herself. Just like Lily. Maybe...maybe even more than Lily._

"She must be a pretty deep sleeper, because she's still snoring and it's starting to drive me crazy," Hermione said quietly, tossing her head slightly to the side, but he knew she was still angry about what he'd told her, and he was glad that her ire wasn't directed at him.

Pulling back gently, she took his hand and he couldn't help but follow her back to the couch where they'd been sitting before. She gently motioned for him to sit, and with her thick snarls of hair flying out around her wildly she almost looked like a small lion, her eyes intense upon his naked chest. Even without a wand, he didn't feel like it would be a good idea to argue with her.

She knelt down slightly as he watched her warily, wondering when the other shoe would drop, when the joke would be revealed. This was not how things were supposed to go, how people were supposed to react. Everyone else seemed to be perfectly happy to give not one shit about Severus Snape. Why didn't she?

_Why don't you hate me?_

She didn't need occlumency to understand his look, so he wasn't exactly surprised when she looked sharply back at him.

"I have never hated you, Severus. Even when Harry and Ron said some pretty disparaging things, I stuck up for you, because even though your words can be harsh, your actions say otherwise."

_Never...hated me? That's a first. I-_

But his thoughts were interrupted as she leaned down and kissed the scar she'd traced earlier, and his mind went blank with a fuzzy sort of warmth. He could feel the magic pulsing through her lips and into the scar in a line of heat and light, and he felt it travel down his shoulder until his arm had begun to shake involuntarily as though he'd been electrified. When she broke contact, the pink scar had faded to a bright white, like the older scars on his back, and she gasped quietly when she saw it.

"May I?" she said breathlessly, and he could only nod slightly, hiding behind his hair out of fear that she'd would see the look of weakness on his face and stop the wonderful thing she was doing. And as she pressed her lips against each ugly mark upon his body, he felt rivulets of power thrumming hotly into his body from her lips. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced, better than the bodily release of orgasm. His entire body hummed as she sent her power flowing in and out of him again and again, basking in her magic like a serpent in the sun.

And once again, he lost himself in the sensation of being at the mercy of her kindness, his heart beating her name in time to her touch.


	31. Chapter 31

_Author's Note: So there's been some serious stuff going on in the past two chapters (No way! Really?). People might be wondering what Lily's been doing while all the shouting and drama and...snogging...has been going on. So here you go._

**Chapter 31: Lily's Dream**

The unicorn was purple. Lily was pretty sure they only came in white, except for the babies, which were born gold. Its mane was a strange bright fuchsia that pulsed with light in various patterns like morse code.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked it, which seemed a reasonable thing to do.

"Why yes," the unicorn replied, "But there's no reason to be alarmed."

"And why is that?" she asked, puzzled.

"Because the dragons are coming," the unicorn said simply and shrugged in a manner that looked disconcertingly human-like.

"What's your name, then?" she moved closer to the proud animal and marveled at the strings of light pulsing through each follicle on its mane and tail.

"Herbert McSparklypants, but you can call me Herbie, all of my friends do," the unicorn pawed at the ground haughtily as she snickered a little, "And just between you and me, all of us have silly surnames. Some are even more ridiculous than mine, you know. I know a Dupert VanBoobles and a Larina Rainbowfartlina. They got teased a lot in school."

"Unicorns go to school?" Lily was shocked.

"Well, this is _your_ dream, so I guess they do," Herbie blinked at her as though this was blindingly obvious.

"So, what about these dragons, then?" Lily was curious.

"They come," he said seriously, as though this explained everything.

She turned to face the sky, trying to pinpoint the sound coming at them like the rushing of a gale, reminiscent of the shock of a jet shooting across the sky. Soon there was a deep rumbling, like the sound of clouds crashing against one another and massive shadows blocked out entire patches of sunlight, leaving her in awe at the suddenly darkened valley. She had only just realized that she was staring at the the shadow of massive wings beating fiercely before she turned her head quickly upward again to catch a blurred vision of golden talons and scales as massive shapes disappeared over the rise of a nearby hill in quick succession.

"Ah, they're going to Camelot, then,". Herbie gestured with his horn, "Would you like a ride, Lily? I'm not one of those stuck up 'virgins only' unicorn types."

Lily was about to ask how he knew her name when it occurred to her that he would simply remind her that it was _her_ dream.

_Well then..._

"I want my wand," she said to no one in particular and she felt the familiar shape form in her outstretched fingers. It felt comforting.

"You're starting to understand. Good. Good!" Herbie was shaking his head up and down like a trained circus horse as rainbow sparks burst from his horn, and Lily couldn't help but giggle.

"I think we should go to the castle in style," Lily said, a smile on her lips, and without another word, she closed her eyes tightly in an expression of intense concentration.

"Good show, Lily!" Herbie cried excitedly, "I've always wanted to ride in one of these!"

Lily opened her eyes and gasped with surprise when she saw a convertible sea-green Aston Martin with the top down purring lightly before her.

"Dreaming is _awesome_," she said, and when she looked down, she was wearing a floor-length green sequin gown that (she knew without looking) perfectly matched her eyes.

She slid into the driver's seat and Herbie sat beside her easily. She reminded herself that he would fit because she wished for him to fit, even though the top of his head still stuck out above the windshield.

The car moved smoothly through the grassy field as though floating on the air. Lily had never bothered to get her muggle driver's license, but she had driven the manual truck around on her uncle's farm when she was 15 while Petunia had screamed and screamed, and had a vague idea of what to do. Her dream did the rest, anyway.

They passed clouds of meringue puffs floating lazily through the sky. She stopped briefly when she spied a tree which was laden with caramel creme eggs instead of proper fruit. They were a rare treat from her childhood, and she couldn't help but indulge herself. Herbie seemed content to simply nibble on the foil wrappers, his eyes twinkling.

"That hill seems impossibly far away, even though I thought it was close by before," Lily murmured to herself.

"Do you really want to get there quickly?" Herbie replied, his teeth grinding metal, and she realized with a jolt that she'd felt somewhat ambivalent about ending their journey so quickly.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter to me. After all, isn't the journey supposed to be the best part?" Lily stretched her arms behind her and yawned as the car drove itself along, seemingly for a long while.

"You know," she continued, "If this wasn't a dream, I would be perfectly content to take a nap. But who ever heard of a dream within a dream?"

Herbie didn't reply, he merely looked at her thoughtfully, his mane flashing out a pattern of pink from the roots out to the tips of his hair.

They drove along in silence and Lily found herself wishing she was at the castle. No sooner had she formed the thought then they were riding swiftly over an ancient, wide, flat stone road towards a grand entrance gate.

At the gate itself, a massive lioness stood, as though waiting for her.

"I thought that only male lions have manes," Lily said, puzzled.

"This is not a mane," the lioness replied simply, "This is my battle fringe."

"Well, that explains a lot," Lily replied sarcastically.

"I was hoping you would get here soon," the lioness said with a hint of a growl to her voice, "They've begun."

Lily and Herbie followed the lioness into a massive courtyard that was set up somewhat like a smaller version of the Roman amphitheater. There was a large, flat open area down at the bottom with raised seats around each side, all of which were empty. But down at the bottom, Lily could see two impossibly massive dragons, their wings billowing open and closed as they circled each other. One was white, with glowing red eyes slitted and cruel. The other was so black it almost looked like a shadow of the first. Its eyes were blue and cold, crackling with power. Between the two dragons were two smaller creatures, also circling one another. On one side, there stood a humanoid-looking ferret, its fur a shockingly bright white, wearing a leather chestplate and holding a sword and shield. Its teeth were bared at its opponent, a massive black cobra that circled and spat menacingly, trying to drive it back.

At a second glance, Lily noticed that the dragons, while they obviously had no love for one another, were not actually fighting one another. Neither would touch the other, they simply kept snapping rudely and shaking their wings and circled. The real fighters were the two in the middle. The ferret warrior kept shying away from actually stabbing at the massive serpent, and as Lily drew closer still, she realized that the serpent wasn't the actual target. There was a small creature nestled inside of the black coils of the snake, a strange beast with two heads and the tail of a snake.

"What is that?" she asked the lioness.

"A chimera," the lioness replied, her tail twitching back and forth, "Now, I am sorry to be rude, but I am needed."

The massive beast bounded down the steps five at a time and soon took her place in the ring against the ferret creature, protecting the small chimera with fierce roars and unsheathed claws.

The white dragon screamed with rage, an almost unearthly sound that made Lily grit her teeth with pain. The scales of its chest parted to reveal a deep red instrument of massive size that thrummed with a dark power. The dragon breathed against its chest and a sound issued forth that seemed to fill the air with a cacophony of shadow.

Instantly, dark shapes formed in dark, shadowy swirls next to the ferret. One was of a tall, blond man with a massive razorblade smile who looked as though he had fashioned his outfit from the Jack of Spades. A small doll appeared, floating in mid-air, with giant black curls and open-and-shut eyes that clicked sinisterly. The fight began again in earnest, the doll throwing black shadows at the snake, injuring it, even as it pulled its coils to shield the small creature that lay whimpering inside. The lioness pounced on the Jack, roaring in pain as he drove a sharp throwing knife in her side, but still sinking her teeth in his shoulder until he too cried out behind his sharp, pointed smile. In response, the black dragon pawed the ground tersely and blasted a short roar that sounded almost like a command.

Herbie looked at Lily, then and she realized that his eyes were just like hers. She was taken aback at the similarity. How had she not noticed that before?

"I know it doesn't really mean anything," he said sadly, "But it's been fun spending just a little time with you before the end."

"What do you mean by that?" she said, her voice becoming shrill, even as she knew what he was about to do. The unicorn was running impossibly fast and into the fray, his hair an electric display of pulsing light as he lowered his horn, which sparked and shone in a prism of light. The white dragon was so focused on the fact that his minions were soundly driving back their opponents that he did not see the violet blur rocketing towards his exposed heart. The rainbow horn skewered through, releasing a torrent of blood that soaked the living doll, the Jack and the ferret in a deep crimson tide. The white dragon didn't so much roar as scream and shuddered, collapsing almost immediately as the life drained from its red, slitted eyes. The earth shook once as it collapsed onto the brave unicorn and then all was still. The doll and the Jack disappeared with a shadowy pulse, and the ferret transformed into a familiar-looking young man with white-blond hair, naked and slick with blood as he curled up in pain, whimpering, and screwed his eyes shut waiting for the final strike from his enemies.

The cobra did not attack, though, and she saw the great serpent's hood close as it moved back, and collapsed next to the large, black dragon with the golden claws. The lioness, too, limped back and gently grabbed the chimera by the scruff of its neck and brought it to Lily.

"You must take her," the lioness said solemnly, "And be sure that no harm comes to her. She is blessed by the stars, this one."

Lily looked down at the small, sleeping beast. It was no larger than a particularly large housecat, one head was that of a lion, one was that of a wolf and its body was cloven-hooved like a horse or deer with the tail of a snake. A creature with so many absurd qualities in one body should have been ugly, but Lily found it strangely beautiful.

When she looked up, she noticed that the black dragon had closed its eyes and was silently becoming more and more transparent as though it were ceasing to exist. The lioness returned to the side of the obsidian viper and licked sorrowfully at its gaping wounds even as the snake began to shudder in its death throes. The great beast rested her head against the scaly head of the snake, tears falling as she mourned her fallen comrade.

All Lily could do was watch and hold the small creature, which, when she looked down again, was no longer a creature at all, but a dark haired human infant, sleeping soundly in her arms.

Lily felt tears running down her face. Nothing made sense. She'd been having a perfectly lovely time driving around with a unicorn riding shotgun and eating creme eggs and now she was surrounded by violence and blood and death and loss.

"Wake up, Lily," she said softly, then she looked up at the sky as fat splashes of lemon drop-scented rain began to fall on her face and screamed, "DO YOU HEAR ME?! I WANT TO WAKE UP!"

When nothing happened, Lily simply stood miserably in the downpour cradling the sleeping child to her chest and she waited for the dream to end.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32: Connections **

Hermione was breathing raggedly, feeling the hot waves of power curl back into her body and she felt...tired. Tired but warm and happy all the way down to the tips of her toes. She surveyed her work and felt a rush of pleasure travel through her body, coloring her cheeks.

Severus lay on his back across the library couch, his long legs bent at the knee and hanging over the armrest, as he was far too tall to fit lengthwise. His bare chest rose and fell evenly as he slept, a look of relaxed bliss on his face.

The scars he carried across across his chest and belly were light and much harder to see than before, as were the ones on his back. A formerly sickly green patch of skin (_"Poisonpatch Hex," he'd explained, "couldn't use the counter curse until it had penetrated into the subcutaneous layer."_), was now almost the normal (if she could call sickly pale "normal") shade of skin as the rest of his abdomen.

The many points of ink that raced across his back and shoulders had been removed by her magic. Only small, faintly noticeable white points remained. Even though his skin still seemed sickly and desperately untouched by the sun, it also seemed to have a subdued, somewhat healthier glow to it. She vaguely wondered if she was just imagining things_. _

_Hermione?_

"Lily! You've been asleep for _ages_!" Hermione whispered excitedly because she finally had someone to tell, and then she realized that Lily's voice seemed quieter than before, "Are you ok?"

_Why is Sev sleeping? And why do you have a look on your face like a cat that ate the canary? And why do you look so tired? And why is he topless and OH MY GOD. _

Hermione grinned as Lily squealed in her ear.

_So you...with Sev...and I...missed it?_

Hermione gently pulled the cloak that had been draped over the chair behind her and tucked it up to the sleeping men's chin before she moved a short distance away so as not to disturb him.

"It's not exactly like that, you know," she said shyly, as she sat down at the desk and pulled out a small piece of parchment and a quill.

_Well, I would know if you'd just tell me!_

Lily's voice sounded like she was tapping an invisible foot in anticipation.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you about it," Hermione smiled and glanced at the clock, which showed that it was about the time for breakfast to be served in the Great Hall, "I just need to write Severus a note and I'll tell you on the way, ok?"

_Well now, that's a new development. Since when did you start calling him by his first name?_

Hermione blushed, "He...he asked me to.."

_That's kind of huge, Hermione. I can count on maybe one hand the number of people who feel comfortable calling Sev by his first name. _

_"_It's still kind of scary to call him that, though. There's this stick-in-the-mud part of my brain that never turns off that keeps screaming 'Professor! Professor Snape!' Over and over again."

_I guess I'm not the only resident voice in your head, then. _

"Ha ha very funny," Hermione said sarcastically as Lily giggled goodnaturedly.

_Well, I knew him before. You know, in school. Sometimes it is hard to think of him in the other way. He's always been Sev, or Severus when I was cross with him. 'Professor' makes me want to giggle uncontrollably. I'm not sure I could say it with a straight face. _

Hermione smiled at the thought. Finishing her note, she folded the parchment in half, using a spoon from the breakfast tray to weigh it down. Her fingers itched to do a Sticking Charm, but she needed her wand first. Part of her wanted to wake him up and tell him what she was about to do, but she knew he would probably try to stop her, and she knew that she was more than capable of doing this on her own. Besides, it's not like she was going to disappear or anything. He would understand. He could read the note. Besides, he obviously needed the rest.

She walked quietly back through the darkened corridor of his offices and looked both ways to check that the hallway outside was clear before she stepped out and shut the door quietly behind her.

_Where are we going?_

"We're going to need to hurry, breakfast might be over soon," Hermione said as she set a brisk pace.

_I saw dishes next to the desk when you were writing that note to Sev. Didn't you already have breakfast?_

"We're not going to breakfast."

_But I thought you said-_

"Lily," Hermione interrupted breathlessly, as she began to climb the stairs by twos, "When did you last visit Gryffindor tower?"

Hermione smiled when she heard Lily shriek quietly in surprise and walked faster towards her destination.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33: The Stealthy Gryffindor**

_It's just as I remember!_

Lily chattered excitedly in her ear as Hermione stepped through into the Gryffindor common room.

_The roaring fire that is warm when it's cold and simply decorative when it's warm outside! The comfy couches and chairs! The decorative furnishings! And...wait...where is it?_

"Where is what?" Hermione asked, puzzled, as she looked around the deserted common room, thankful everyone was at breakfast so they wouldn't see her talking to herself like a nutter.

_The Crystal Billiards Table, that's what! _Lily replied hotly. _It was always over there, where that circle of couches is now_.

Hermione was perplexed. She had never heard of Crystal Billiards.

"Is it some kind of game, like Wizard's Chess?" she inquired.

Lily laughed in a decidedly patronizing manner.

_It's ten times more fun than Wizard's-bloody-Chess!_

"I'm going to get my wand first," Hermione said gently, "So why don't you tell me on the way?"

_Ooh, I'll just bet it was those awful Ravenclaw Ramblers! _Lily raged_, They were always on about 'reclaiming the table for Helena.' I'm not sure how they managed it, but 'Claws are very clever. Ten times more clever than the bloody Marauders._

"You knew about the Marauders?" Hermione asked as she climbed the stairs to the girl's dorms.

_It was impossible NOT to know about them_, Lily said with an air of irritation. _What with James and Sirius always going on loudly about their exploits to any pretty girl who would listen. Well, that was mostly Sirius, with James needlessly pestering me all the time, but still!_

"How do you know that the table wasn't stolen by the Slytherins?" Hermione was curious. In her experience, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were generally neutral unless there was a Quidditch match or there was a dead heat for the House Cup.

_Well, first off, I've been with Sev in the Slytherin Common Room loads of times since he's their Head of House. If it was there, even in the darkest corner, I would have seen it. Believe me, those Slytherins certainly know how to take advantage of a shadowy corner for...adventurous liaisons...so I've seen every inch of that place and it isn't there._

Hermione blushed as she stepped hesitantly into her dorm room. Thankfully, the room was empty.

_And secondly, you need to understand, when I was a student, our biggest rivals were the Ravenclaws, especially those Ramblers. There were about twenty of them and they made the First and Second Years' lives hell. They were ruthless. And the worst thing about their little gang was that many of them acted alone, so they often got the drop on Gryffindors because they aren't much for meeting and planning due to their pride in their innate cleverness. Sure, it wasn't all of the Ravenclaw students, but taking double potions was hell when Amalda Parkins, Rufus Thawl and Sara Chen were seated in the back together causing mayhem. _

Hermione was sympathetic. After all, Draco _had_ once dropped a live Salamantis into her hair during potions class and she'd only noticed when it had crawled through her canopy of snarls and slimed a streak down her neck, causing her to shriek and flail and lose five points from Gryffindor for disturbing class.

_But enough about those Rambler morons! You simply MUST play some Crystal Billiards! It's absolutely brilliant!_

Hermione smiled politely as Lily continued. Something told her that Lily would have been very fast friends with Ron-the way she went on at length about strategy, and a small corner of Hermione's heart twinged as she thought of how cute he looked when he was passionate about a topic.

She began to quickly undress and grabbed her wand from the velvet bag in her bedside table. With a flick of her wrist and an "_Accio_ Hermione's clean uniform, knickers and bra!" she had called over clothing from her small wardrobe and set about putting it on. It felt good to focus her magic through her wand again. It was almost like regaining the use of an innate part of herself that she hadn't noticed was missing until she had been cut off from it.

She dressed quickly as Lily went on at length about Crystal Billiards, which seemed to be similar to muggle Billiards except that miniature crystal balls were laid out on a table covered with a series of runes set into the flat surface. To sink a ball properly for maximum points, a player was required to formulate a mental pathway for the cue ball to travel using complex geometrical and spatial thinking to help guide each ball with the Cuestick through the correct angles and movements over each rune before sinking them. There were other, even more complex rules, but Hermione felt her brain mentally shut off the way it did when Ron and Harry went on and on about Quidditch or Wizard's Chess.

When she glanced at the owl clock up on the wall, Hermione suddenly realized that she was running out of time. Even though Ron was a bottomless pit at meals, the food eventually disappeared as a not-so-subtle reminder that one shouldn't aspire to be a glutton. She hurriedly grabbed a thick black scrunchie from her toiletry bag and pulled back her hair more fully than she had been able to manage with the ribbon. Then she ran from the room, her robes flying behind her as she raced down the stairs from her dorm and then rushed up the second set of stairs to the boy's dorms.

For one, terrifying moment, Hermione imagined bursting in the door and catching someone in the buff, or worse. She tried not to think of "worse," but she felt her body growing flushed with arousal despite herself. Unfortunately, it seemed that spending time doing perverted things only improved one's sexual imagination.

"Um, Hermione? This doesn't seem like a good time to switch," Lily's voice was concerned as Hermione saw a stray snarl of hair trailing down the front of her uniform was turning red at the tip.

Hermione thought frantically and did the first thing that came to her head.

_**WHACK**_.

Hermione bit back a scream as she hopped up and down on her good foot at the top of the stairs. She'd purposefully slammed her toe into one of the stone stairs and it hurt like crazy but at least her hair was going back to normal.

_Well, I guess that's one way to do it. If only we could control it better, or better yet, get me my own body!_

Hermione hoped that they could find a more permanent fix soon as well, but there would be time to think about that more later on. Luckily for Hermione, Harry and Ron still appeared to be at breakfast, the curtains were drawn up showing their empty (and messily unmade) beds, but she still entered the room quietly and was especially glad she had decided to do so when she realized that one of the beds still had the curtains drawn down around it and light snores issued forth from behind them.

Hermione rolled her eyes when she read the name of the trunk against the foot of the bed. Ever since Seamus had found out that he hadn't made the Gryffindor Quidditch team and his best friend Dean had basically become attached at the hip to Ginny, he had thrown himself into the Hogwarts party scene, often not showing up to the dorms until the wee hours of the morning.

While Seamus wasn't particularly good looking or extremely skilled at any one subject, he was friendly and gregarious. Somehow, he found himself a part of quite a number of wild shindigs in the other houses, even a Slytherin party, which Hermione guessed had more to do with the fact that he nursed a bit of a grudge towards Harry for not choosing him for the team than anything.

Hermione kind of empathized with the sleeping teen, but she didn't want to dawdle any longer than absolutely necessary. She looked around the room. And to make matters worse, the floor seemed even messier than before, if that was even possible.

_Hermione! Is that it- the bottle under the scarf to your left? The one on the pile of old Daily Prophet issues?_

A purple bottle poked out of the red and gold scarf, but Hermione did not need to investigate further to know that it wasn't the right one.

"No. It was a thinner, taller bottle. Dark brown with golden letters on the side," Hermione whispered, wading carefully through the mess.

Hermione had expected it to be difficult to find, but this was ridiculous. She would have to give them a talking to later on, that is, if she could remain herself long enough to do so.

She had almost given up when she stepped over a dubiously scented pile of trousers and found herself slipping on something. Suppressing a loud shriek of surprise, Hermione found herself on the floor with a very sore spot radiating outward on her bottom, the offending item rolling slightly before coming to rest next to Harry's trunk.

She scooted ungracefully forward and grabbed the bottle in her hand triumphantly.

_Um, Hermione? I think we have a problem. _

She whirled around and Seamus was groggily peering out from the curtains at the foot of his bed.

"H'mine?" he said, peering through crusty, bloodshot eyes.

Exactly what had he been doing the night before? Hermione decided she should probably not judge him considering her own..._extracurricular activities_.

"Uh, hi?" she said tentatively.

A huge grin spread across his face.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" he shouted, his fist shaking in the air.

Bewildered, Hermione looked at the empty butterbeer that she was holding and then back to Seamus, who nodded sloppily. She pretended to drink out of the empty bottle and he cheered raucously.

"It's not what you think," she said cautiously, turning her head back around so she could get the balance to stand, "I just needed to get some, er, notes back from Harry, so you see-"

She was interrupted by a light snore.

She turned around and saw that Seamus had fallen asleep, his face resting against one of his fists, still sticking out of the curtains like a disembodied head.

_I think that's our cue. _

Taking Lily's advice, Hermione ran back to the common room after storing the empty bottle in a pocket sewn into the inside of her robes. She'd no sooner collapsed into an overstuffed chair, feeling decidedly exhausted, when Lavender and Parvati came through the portrait doorway and they locked their eyes on her in a way that made Hermione incredibly uncomfortable. She knew that look. It was one of those "you are going to come with us and tell us all you know under Article A, subsection 32 of the Female Friendship Bylaws" kinds of looks from which there was no escape.

"Hello Hermione," said Lavender brightly, "On your own after...last night?"

_Oh my god. Does she know? How could she know?_

"I never really pegged you for a partier," Parvati said lightly, her dark eyes shining, "But I can tell that there's something different about you this morning. Especially after you didn't come back for two nights in a row."

"And that means-" Lavender grinned, showing off perfect, even teeth.

"-You are going to tell us EVERYTHING!" Parvati squealed, and both girls jumped up and down excitedly.

Just then, Hermione heard familiar voices on the other end of the painting and she knew, with an uncomfortable slithering feeling in her stomach, that Harry and Ron were about to make an entrance.

"We should go to our rooms!" she said, far more exuberantly than she felt, smiling painfully widely and then in a stage whisper she added, "That way you can be the first to know all the juicy details!"

Lavender was practically drooling with anticipation and Parvati wasn't far behind. The two girls moved to either side of Hermione and linked arms with her, marching her up the stairs just as she heard Harry's voice say something in a low timbre and Ron's answering laughter as it echoed like a pulse up the stairs.

_What are we going to tell them? Do you have a plan?_

Hermione's thoughts were as frantic as Lily's ghost of a voice and all she could do was shake her head once as the two girls dragged her up the stairs enthusiastically.

* * *

_Author's Note: Hey look! A postscript note instead of a pre-chapter ramble! How quaint! I wonder what you think of the inclusion of Parvati and Lavender. Do you have any ideas of how this whole debacle is going to fit into Lavender's Ron-crazed behavior? Let me know what you think!_


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34: Girl Talk**

Hermione was sitting on her bed, trying her best to think quickly. Her two friends were sitting across from her on Parvati's bed, their eyes huge with anticipation at what she was about to say.

"So…" Hermione said, trailing off and looking uncomfortable, "Well, I guess it might be best to find out what you already know so that I don't end up going on at length about things that are old news, right?"

Lavender gave her a puzzled look but shrugged slightly in agreement.

"Well," said Parvati, "Last Thursday, we heard that there was a really huge Hufflepuff party planned for this Friday."

"And as you know," Lavender continued, looking at her nails appraisingly, "The 'Puffs are often very..._liberal_...about their invitations. We were invited, of course, but we hadn't realized that..._you_ had also been made aware of it. After all, you never seem to want to come out with us, even though we keep inviting you."

"Oh….yes…it was kind of last minute for me because my plans fell through for the weekend," Hermione said quickly, looking at each girl with as much confidence as she could muster.

"Well, we noticed that you didn't come home on Friday night, or on Saturday night. But the party was supposed to go until this morning anyway," Parvati said flippantly, "Lavender and I, well, we broke away to get some sleep in our own beds the past couple of nights, so we could still look gorgeous and have some proper breakfast down at the Great Hall this morning, but we haven't seen you anywhere. So what's the deal?"

"I was hoping Ron would make it," pouted Lavender, "But he never came."

Hermione must have looked a bit shocked because Parvati gave Lavender a withering look.

"Lavender! You know that Hermione has feelings for him too! It's insensitive of you to bring up your crush!" she hissed.

"Why is it insensitive?" Lavender said proudly, crossing her arms, "After all, Hermione obviously has good taste, even if it took until this year for that good taste to include how tall and increasingly fit Ron is getting!"

Hermione's face reddened, and she suddenly started to realize that Lavender's little compliments towards Ron the past couple of weeks weren't just playful jabs at Hermione to get her to say something.

"Well, I heard that McLaggen was there, trying to snog anything with long legs," Parvati said in a scandalized tone, "I hope he didn't cause you any trouble, Hermione!"

"My legs aren't actually all that long," Hermione mused, "But that's really not the point. I'd never snog McLaggen, even if he were the last bloke in Hogwarts!"

"Well, then!" Lavender clasped her hands, "Who's the lucky guy, then?"

"What?" Hermione's voice was shrill and the girls across from her shared a knowing look, "I mean, what do you mean?"

"I think that we can tell that you're...different this morning," Parvati said slyly, "Or do you want us to take you down to the unicorn stables to prove it?"

Hermione turned scarlet, and her two friends shared a confirming glance.

"We're your friends, so we won't tell anyone," Lavender said gently, "But we have to know all the juicy details about your tall, dark and handsome mystery man. Now."

"Well, he is kind of dark," Hermione said thoughtfully, trying not to lie but also trying to avoid the absolute truth, "A big fan of midnight black robes."

"Sounds kind of sexy," Parvati said, leaning forward in interest.

"And he's a lot different one on one than in public around everyone else," Hermione said, trying hard not to giggle at the thought of her friends figuring out exactly _who_ she was referring to.

Lavender rolled her eyes theatrically, "Ugh, aren't they all like that, though?"

Hermione was pleasantly surprised that she was enjoying herself so much. Most of the time, she tried to stay out of "boy chats" but it often led to some strain on her friendships with the other girls. And it didn't help that she was friends with one of the most famous boys in the Wizarding World, regardless whether he was hated as a scapegoat or loved as a hero. Even though Harry was adorable in many ways, their personalities were far too different. She somewhat begrudged his irritating habit of looking to her like he expected her to pull solutions out of her hair and she had noticed that he had this infuriating way of cajoling her into treating him like she was his older sister or his mum or something. Which was funny because right now she kind of _was_ at least partially Harry's mum. Well, sort of.

She shook her head to clear her flurry of thoughts and suddenly noticed that her friends were looking at her oddly.

"Mind sharing some of that mental conversation with us?" Parvati said kindly, as she raised an eyebrow in askance.

"It's...complicated," Hermione said sheepishly, "Things are going really quickly and it doesn't help that there are a lot of unknown factors."

"Hermione!" Lavender laughed sympathetically, "We are talking about love! Lust! Cute butts! Not an Arithmancy assignment!"

Hermione blushed.

"We really shouldn't be hard on her, Lav," Parvati said cheekily, "You've been in a right state over your 'Won Won' these past few weeks!"

Lavender flushed so deeply that she almost turned the color of her namesake.

"I-it's not like I'd call him that in public or to his face!" she stammered, "He'd think I was mental! Besides, it's not as though he even knows I exist or anything!"

Hermione understood Lavender's consternation. Ron had trouble realizing that _she_ was even female most of the time, and they were best friends.

"Oh, Lavender," she said sympathetically, "Ron is just being a great blind git, is all. He treats me like I'm practically a bloke in a skirt even though we have known each other since First Year and I've saved his hide countless times!"

"If there was only some way for me to develop the confidence to just go for it, you know?" Lavender said quietly as she tried to hold back tears, "Even if I get rejected, it could give me some finality, yeah? But I'm just too afraid to make the first move and I know he never will! It's just...hopeless!"

Parvati put her arms around her friend as Lavender wiped at the little tears sneaking down the sides of her face.

Even with her newfound feelings for..._Severus_...(would she ever be comfortable calling him that, even in her thoughts?), Hermione had over six years of varying degrees of love for the youngest Weasley boy. It wasn't exactly like she could just let go of that after a weekend of..whatever she had together with the surly, scarred man, not to mention Lily.

Her heart burned with indecision. She'd gotten used to the ache of unrequited love, but it was still painful. And the fire of reciprocation was so intense that it was hard to ignore its call.

Lavender must have interpreted Hermione's expression as pity, because she put a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured, "I'm not as badly off as you, though, Hermione. You've got a history with Ron, and I don't really feel comfortable stepping between you two, even with your new mystery man in the picture."

"Yeah, when will we meet him, anyway?" Parvati said, grateful for the change of subject, "I mean, we do know him, right?"

"Um, yes. Yes you do," Hermione bit her lip, "But I'm not really sure you'd call us an 'item' or anything."

"Smart girl. You don't want to tie yourself down simply because you've had a bit of fun," Parvati nodded approvingly, walking a very soggy Lavender into the dorm room's bathroom, then added, "Be right back!"

_Hermione?_

Hermione was barely able to keep herself from leaping off her bed. Lily had been uncharacteristically quiet so far, and with her friends giving her love life an interrogation, it had been easy to forget that Lily had heard every word.

_I know you can't answer me right now because your friends might be back at any moment. I'll ask yes or no questions and if it's yes, nod. If it's no, shake your head. _

Hermione nodded quietly to let Lily know she understood.

_You still have strong feelings for...Ron?_

_**Nod. **_

_Were you just pretending to care about Sev?_

Shake.

_Do you have a plan of escape yet?_

Hermione paused just as she was about to shake her head again. Her mind was stuck on something Lavender had said about her lack of nerve when it came to approaching Ron. And then she began to think about how when she was flustered and upset or in physical pain, it kept her from switching into Lily Mode, even when she was exposed to triggers for the transformation.

And suddenly, Hermione knew what she needed to do. It was going to require some help, a lot of hard work, some suffering on her part, and a little luck, but if she timed everything right, it would certainly buy them some time, and get her out of having to answer any more uncomfortable questions.

"Brilliant!" she said with a determined glint in her eyes.

When Parvati and a far-less-soggy-but-still-misty-eyed Lavender emerged from the bathroom, Hermione was writing furiously in a small notebook with a copy of her Advanced Potions textbook open in her lap.

"I think," she said slowly, "That I may have just solved your Ron Problem, Lavender."

And after Lavender had thrown her arms around Hermione and burst into tears yet again, prompting another Parvati clean-up-intervention, Hermione detailed her plan to help Lavender.

She hoped that she sounded more confident than she felt.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35: The Ron Plan**

"It's perfect!" Lavender cried.

"It's an absolute disaster!" Hermione groaned.

_I actually agree with Lavender. You look amazing, Hermione, and they're not even done yet. _

Hermione just glared as the two girls poked and plucked and brushed at her body.

"If I had realized that this is what you meant by 'returning the favor,' I would have turned you down without hesitating," she huffed.

"Nonsense!" Parvati said brightly, "Do you have any idea how many time I've had to whisk Lavender away when she gets all wet-eyed and moody-like? I'd do your makeup until we graduate if that's what it would take to stop it!"

"Hey!" Lavender cried with mock irritation, "I wasn't that bad! And besides, who was the one blubbering for three weeks last April because she asked out Riley Renner the day after Leisha McKennitt did?"

"Bloody 'Puffs and their bloody loyalty!" Parvati muttered darkly.

"I'm still not sure why you both absolutely _had_ to give _me_ a bloody makeover _right now_," Hermione growled, still clutching her notebook.

"You. Shush," Lavender said as she fluffed at Hermione's cheeks with some kind of powder puff thing.

"Agreed, Lav," Parvati said with a smile, "Shush."

* * *

"All right. Now you can look," Lavender said proudly.

"I...! I...I look...good?" Hermione said, surveying her face and hair.

"Well of course you look good, silly!" Lavender said, admiring her work.

"I feel spectacularly overly made up," Hermione said nervously, looking down at the jeans and sweater she had changed into earlier.

"Don't be shy" Parvati said, clasping her hands together, "Do a spin!"

Hermione felt that spinning, especially under these circumstances, was quite childish indeed, but she sighed and indulged her friends. She had to admit it felt pretty good to spin, even as she felt a twinge on her backside; she was pretty sure she was going to have a bruise on her bum where she'd fallen earlier that day.

Lavender had used this amazing charmed hair balm, and it actually tamed the snarls of her hair into more manageable locks, which flowed around her face in a flattering, framing sort of way. It had a fresh minty scent that made her scalp tingle pleasurably. Hermione made a mental note to ask Lavender where she had purchased such a product later.

Parvati had done most of the make up, while Lavender had cast some very subtle charms to make Hermione's lips look a bit fuller and her eyes seemed even larger than usual. The eye make up, which Pavarti swore was as simple and basic as possible, gave her a mature, gorgeous look, as though she was about to step into a noir movie and attend a fancy party.

Hermione frowned and the image in the mirror frowned back. It was almost as complete a transformation as when she'd turned into Lily. A part of her began to wonder if anyone would like her the way she normally looked, or if being liked was always contingent on a tightly controlled and manufactured image.

"We know you're probably going to see your Mystery Man again soon," Lavender said, smirking mischievously, "So why not show him Best Hermione instead of Regular Hermione? He will cream his pants from just looking at you!"

"Ew, Lav!" Parvati playfully slapped her friend on the arm, "Don't be rude!"

"What?" Lavender grinned evilly, "I'm just being honest."

Hermione did her best not to let her mind wander to perverted thoughts, and hastily changed the subject.

"So girls," she said, trying to ignore a sudden itching sensation on her freshly powdered nose, "How about we start to work on the Ron Plan?"

Lavender squeaked excitedly and threw her arms around Hermione for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Are you sure that you're ok with this, Hermione?" she blubbered, "I mean, I know he's been your bestie for ages. And we didn't really see eye to eye for quite some time and..."

"You're overreacting again," Hermione said bravely, "And to be honest, you deserve a chance. I warn you that I might still behave a bit jealously, but it's for the best. We...we just can't be together now."

She imagined the look on Ron's face if she went all Lily on him and shook her head grimly.

"No," she repeated, "I need this as much as you do, Lav."

She opened the notebook and showed them the list of ingredients.

"Parvati, you're on good terms with Professor Sprout, so you'll be gathering the Mandrake skin and the Waspvine stingers from the greenhouses," Hermione said evenly, still trying to banish her angsty thoughts. It was her job to be the one with the brains, with a plan. She couldn't be getting all sentimental and weepy just because she had to make some sacrifices.

"And Lavender- you're tasked with getting at least two ounces of leftover loose tea from Professor Trelawney, as well as some hairs from Ron. The instructions say that the potion won't work as well unless the person who will be using the potion takes the hair from their Intended. I'll need to brew it tonight in our bathroom- the potion must be aged for about a month for best results, which means it should be ready around the time Gryffindor is scheduled to play Quidditch against Slytherin. Regardless of whether or not we win, your best bet is to use the potion then because it will seem less suspicious if you suddenly gain a burst of courage and do something like snog him silly."

Lavender's eyes twinkled with anticipation and Hermione had to jump to the side to dodge another impassioned hug.

"Aw, no fair!" Lavender faux-pouted.

"Are you _sure_ that you want to go the potion route?" Hermione continued seriously, "Because there won't be any tests or second chances. Once you take the Pursuer's Drought, you will be under its influence every time your Intended is nearby for over a month, perhaps even longer depending on how strong it comes out after the aging process. You will be able to gain the confidence you desire, but it's still magic, and there could be all sorts of unforeseen consequences-"

"Ugh, Hermione, why do you have to be such a spoilsport?" Lavender interrupted, "I decided that your potion plan was brilliant and I haven't changed my mind. I've messed up disastrously the last couple times I attempted to charm a bloke with my natural feminine wiles and I'm not going to let my pathological cases of the nerves get the best of me this time!"

Hermione sighed. She knew it was hopeless the moment she'd opened her mouth, but part of her had almost hoped to talk Lavender out of the Ron Plan.

Parvati left the room first, as it was getting to be late afternoon and the days were getting shorter. No one wanted to be in the greenhouses after dark. It got...dangerous...in there, even if you knew what you were doing.

Hermione wondered if she was doing the right thing. It used to be so simple- good and evil, rules and consequences. But now she was learning that rules could be broken rather easily, and sometimes the rules _needed_ breaking, especially when it seemed increasingly likely that most of the adults knew absolutely nothing at all and were simply hoping that no one would notice.

She also knew that at this point, she was working towards a resolution without a happy ending for her. Ron would love Lavender if she pursued him as relentlessly as the Pursuer's Drought was famous for, and Prof-_Severus_, well, his childhood friend and lifelong unrequited love Lily Evans would at some point be together again, Hermione could feel it in her bones as sure as the magic in her veins. Once Lily had a body, Hermione would be irrelevant again. He didn't love her, he loved the soul of the girl trapped in her body, she reminded herself. The light in his eyes as she had kissed him was just due to a surge in her magic, nothing true or real in any meaningful way. And even if there was a chance, he was still a teacher and she was still a student. The longer she spent out of the haze that had seemed to build between them in the library, the more she thought it had to be some dream she'd had or worse, that she was reading far too much into it and seeing something that wasn't even there.

But still...he had asked her to call him by his first name. Was it just out of weakness after seeing Lily? Or could it mean something more...real?

Hermione was still deep in thought as Lily lightly hummed a theme song from a popular muggle 70's TV show and Lavender rummaged through her wardrobe for a cloak to match her headscarf, when Parvati rushed into the room again, wild-eyed and out of breath from running up the stairs.

The girls stared in fear at their friend as she caught her breath, her hands on her knees as she bent down, drawing deep breaths.

When she'd finally recovered enough to speak, she stared in terror at Hermione.

"I-it's S-Snape," she wheezed, "He-he tuh-told me to get you qui-quickly because he's gonna take five points from Gryffindor for every minute he has to stand outside the Fat Lady's painting!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she grabbed her messenger bag with her books in it, checking to make sure her wand and the butterbeer bottle she had retrieved earlier were securely zipped into the front packet.

"Good luck," Parvati called after her as Hermione ran down the stairs, wincing when the bag knocked against her bruised bottom as she ran, "Looks like Snape's in the mood to murder somebody."

"Bloody brilliant," Hermione hissed sarcastically under her breath, "and just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse."

She could practically feel the black waves of malice on the other side of the portrait, but she steeled herself and stepped out onto the landing, ready for the worst.


	36. Chapter 36

_Author's Note: I'm considering creating an 8Tracks list of music for stuff I've been listening to while writing/thinking of this story. I'm not exactly sure how much you'd be interested in listening to such a thing, but I'd love to hear from you if you're interested. Lately, I've been listening to three albums quite a lot- "Sparks" by Imogen Heap, "The Five Ghosts" by Stars and "All This Bad Blood" by Bastille. They are phenomenal, solid albums and good additions to any audiophile's collection, and the music has been helpful for getting me into a good Writer's Space. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It just goes to show that sometimes being a jerk can actually be useful. Though I would not recommend doing so in real life. Or do. Your mileage may vary._

* * *

**Chapter 36: An Immovable Object, An Unstoppable Force**

"So glad you decided to join us, Ms. Granger," Snape's voice was dark as he glowered down his nose at her, "I _only_ had to take off 20 points from your house."

Hermione glared at him, and she saw something shift uncomfortably behind his black gaze as he took in her Best Hermione look for a bit longer than he should have, her heart leaping just a little bit when she saw the side of his mouth twitch upwards.

_Ugh. I hate it when he does this. He can be such a drama queen._

Hermione was leaning towards agreeing with Lily there. He was obviously trying to appear to be more angry than he actually was. She was finally realizing that it was almost easy to read him when she knew what to look for. Almost.

"Was taking points away from Gryffindor really necessary? And can you tell me what this is _actually_ about?" she said quietly as she followed him down the stairs, acutely aware of all the stares from the paintings on the walls. Even the Fat Lady was unabashedly blowing raspberries and making rude gestures at the back of Snape's head.

"Later. Now come," he said dispassionately, and swooped so quickly down the stairs that Hermione practically had to jog to keep up with him, feeling that damnable bag bouncing against the bruise that she was now sure would cover her entire arse by the day's end.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione tried to stop for a second to catch her breath, but his pale fingers dug into her shoulder and he pulled her along down the hall the way she'd seen him drag plenty of students bound for one of his infamous detentions before.

"If you don't let go of me," Hermione hissed quietly, "I am going to kiss you again, and you know what will happen, don't you?"

He paused and turned to lock eyes with her again, his lip curling up in a fierce snarl.

"But you must remember, _you_ left _me_ when I had specifically directed you not to leave until I'd dismissed you," he hissed back at her, "You could have-"

"Ah, Severus," a voice chuckled affably from the adjoining corridor to left of them and Hermione jumped. Snape simply whirled, looking even more irate than before, which, Hermione realized suddenly, was an incredibly effective way to disguise shock and surprise. She would have to remember to use that trick later.

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled as though he were privy to a silent joke that only he could hear.

"Albus," Snape nodded sharply, acknowledging the snowy-bearded man in the loud purple-and-gold robes, "Just taking this _Gryffindor_ to detention."

"Miss Granger?" Albus sounded surprised, "Why, I don't think she's ever had a detention on her own before, and on a Sunday to boot! Exactly what has she done to receive such a punishment?"

Snape flushed from his neck up to his ears as he obviously thought a number of nasty things that he would never say out loud to the ancient wizard before him.

"If you must know, _sir_," he spat, pulling an object from his robes abruptly, "She was in the possession of a book that she did not have _permission_ to take. I happened to be nearby and am merely doing my due diligence in disciplining nasty _children_ who do not know the meaning of 'following rules.'"

The ancient, ominously yellow-paged book was obviously from the Restricted Section of the library, but Hermione had never seen it before, even though she often spent weeks practically living in the stacks; only leaving when Madame Pince kicked her out. She reflexively opened her mouth to protest, but a sidelong glance from Snape made her think twice and she just stood there quietly, waiting for Dumbledore to respond.

"It seems," Dumbledore said quietly, "That the punishment does not appear to fit the crime. Miss Granger, you should walk with me awhile. I'll escort you back to your common room."

Hermione was not looking forward to climbing all of those stairs again, and something in Snape's body language made her feel a little wary of the Headmaster.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," she said, finally, trying to sound more relieved than she felt, "However, I was on my way back to the library when...er...Professor Snape found me. I should like to go back there and finish my studies before suppertime if possible."

"Oh, Miss Granger, you are quite the treasure," Dumbledore smiled and small crinkles broke out around his eyes, "It's refreshing, indeed, to see such interest in advanced studies. I shall be most glad to walk with you to the library."

Hermione smiled uncomfortably. She got the distinct impression that Dumbledore wanted to talk to her in private, and she wasn't exactly sure she was going to like what he was going to say...or what he was going to ask her.

She looked up at Snape, trying to discern any emotion in his face, but his expression was unnervingly blank.

"Well, Granger," Snape said dismissively, "It looks like you were lucky this time. Next time you put even _one toe out of line_, don't expect that the Headmaster will be close by to absolve you of all consequences as he is so fond of doing for his _Gryffindor_ students. The next time you cross me, I will make sure you are set to the task of scrubbing burnt cauldrons with your bare hands until _**ten o'clock**_ _**at night**_."

With a withering look of deepest loathing, he glared at both Dumbledore and Hermione and swept off down the hall at a furious pace.

Hermione's eyes were wide as Dumbledore chuckled affably at the retreating black robes.

"Professor Snape tries his best to be scary, but I promise that his bark is worse than his bite," the Headmaster put out his arm for Hermione to take and he began to lead her towards the library.

"It is strange that you would be looking at a book in the Restricted section regarding ghosts, golems and the manner of their making," Dumbledore said quietly, once they were alone, "You are not, I hope, expecting to shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon?"

"No!" Hermione said, more sharply than she would have liked, then, "Well, I've just always been curious...you know, about the ghosts in the castle. And you know how Nearly Headless Nick has invited us to several of his birthday parties? Well, it's just that I want to be able to know what a ghost is, and what the difference is between a ghost and a golem- I mean, do they have souls? Are they souls without bodies? Are they just whispers of the people they used to be?"

"You have many questions," Dumbledore said sagely, "But I would not expect any less from our resident genius. You are, I am sure, aware of _asking permission_ to read books from the Restricted Section?"

"Yes," Hermione flushed, sending a mental burst of irritation out into the general direction of Snape's office for his fabricated excuse, "But unfortunately, I was...I just got so caught up in my research that I just kind of grabbed it before I really realized what I was doing. Then I justified it to myself because I knew I wasn't doing anything bad with it, and before I knew it...well…you know the rest."

The Headmaster looked relieved at Hermione's sheepish expression, and ruffled her hair affectionately.

"I know that you have _many things_ on your mind," he said cryptically, "But I must ask you to do your best to follow the rules to the best of your ability from now on. There are many people who would not be as understanding as I am about your level of focus. Are we understood?"

Hermione nodded and he smiled mildly, rifling in his robes for a moment and then pulling out a small piece of parchment and a miniature quill.

"Sir?" Hermione couldn't help but stare at his blackened hand as he scribbled something out in his familiar, looping handwriting with the other.

"Mmm, yes?" he said absentmindedly.

"Sir, if I may be so bold...your hand seems to have been burnt terribly. I certainly hope that you are well. But if not, I wouldn't be averse to helping you research possible treatments," she replied carefully.

"Oh, my dear!" he chuckled softly, handing the folded parchment to her with his good hand, "While your offer of assistance is most appreciated, I fear that this is a private matter that I must attend to on my own."

"What's this?" she asked as she took the parchment.

His eyes twinkled merrily, "Why, I figured that it would be best if you didn't have any more problems acquiring _essential_ texts from the library, don't you?"

She unfolded the paper and gasped. Written in the looping cursive she knew so well, her eyes read and re-read the words just to make sure that she wasn't imagining things.

_My Dearest Madam Pince,_

_This note hereby grants one Hermione Granger permission to check out any book, including any restricted materials, from the Hogwarts library in the course of her studies and research needs._

_With utmost respect and sincerity,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

"Sir!" Hermione's eyes were shining with grateful tears, "This...I can't possibly…It's…"

"A simple thank you would do, my dear," the Headmaster said softly, "And between you and me, I would suggest taking a look at _Clever Concealments, Curses and Cantations_. You'll never know when you might need the ability to fit many things into a small space."

As they neared the library doors, Dumbledore gracefully unhooked his arm from hers and patted her hand. The halls seemed eerily empty of anyone else, and Hermione wondered if somehow this was another type of magic that allowed Dumbledore to be alone in the manner he wished, or if it was simply happenstance. With magic, either option was a distinct possibility.

"Dark times are ahead, Hermione," he said seriously, "I know that you are already aware of this, but I wished to add the following: I know that you will be an incredible asset not only to your dearest friends but also to the wizarding and muggle worlds. You are one of the keys to fighting the great evil of our days, and in my age, I sometimes forget just how far you have come, my dear, from that fresh-faced First Year traveling for the first time to the Great Hall in our enchanted boats. Right now, studying may very well be the difference between defeating Voldemort and losing the war."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand.

"I understand that you're in a difficult situation," he said, and his eyes looked weary and old for the first time she could remember, "But I also want you to know that I have the utmost faith in you- that you'll make the _right decision_ when the time comes."

"But...what do I...?" she sputtered.

"You'll know what to do," he replied, his eyes twinkling merrily again, and when she turned back after momentarily turning around to get out of the way of a small group of Hufflepuff boys who were exiting through the heavy library doors, Dumbledore had vanished.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37: Deciphering Deception**

Severus Snape doubted very much that he had ever been in a more foul mood. Not only had he slept at least half of his Sunday away, but when he had awoken, he had been alone, which had promptly filled him with terror. Seconds afterward, he had become incredibly irritated for having been terrified. The anger filled him, warm and familiar. Various levels of anger were a useful tool and had served him well over the years, and he was becoming increasingly concerned how quickly Lily and now Hermione had basically torn down what defenses he'd built over the years to shut everything out in only a weekend. It was like being dragged out of a deep, silent cave into the sunlight. The sensory experience was overwhelming.

He'd read the note she'd left him, going on about how she'd be right back as soon as she'd gotten a change of clothing and some vaguely defined "important items."

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

The thing was, she might have written the note five seconds or five hours before. There was no real way of knowing. How would she be able to get back into his offices if she were to return? All he could think about was what would happen if she accidentally transformed. It wouldn't take much. There were a number of incredibly crude little bastards in Gryffindor, well to be honest, in the school in general. They _were _still teenagers, after all. And she _was_ friends with that Weasley boy...AND _Potter._ Ugh. He didn't even want to think that he may have kissed the lips of someone who had kissed that troublemaking little shit.

_But her lips had been so soft and-_

He'd shaken his head. He couldn't let himself get caught up in sentimental musings. He had to find her before things got out of hand.

_I need a reason to be there. Ah, yes, a book. It's always a book with Hermione. Not ideal, but it'll do._

He grabbed his personal copy of a book that he knew was also in the Restricted Section from his library and secured it in a deep pocket within his robes. He rubbed his eyes and then ran his fingers through his hair, which was growing greasy at the roots again, even though he'd showered only two days prior.

_There's nothing for it. No time._

But why was he even thinking about how he looked? It had never been any concern to him before.

A very perturbed Severus Snape sped through his offices and out the door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

Her appearance was striking when she'd opened the portrait. He'd very nearly forgotten to say something sarcastic enough to sound like his customary self. It was incredibly difficult not to stare, and he cursed internally when he realized she'd noticed. Somehow, the muggle clothing she wore made her look older and somehow more sophisticated. Well, maybe it was her glare- he had to admit she was rather skilled in that department, but that made sense seeing whose shenanigans she put up with on a regular basis. He was uncomfortably aware of how many eyes were on him as the various portraits stared disdainfully in his direction, which had been quite a lot of motivation to retreat back to a less populated space. He'd expected her to keep up with him as he'd sped down the stairs, but had forgotten that he had a much longer stride than she did. There was nothing he could do, though. Slowing down would be a kindness and kindness was a weakness, especially when there were still so many eyes on him.

_I want to touch her, oh how I want an excuse to-no, it'll look suspicious._

He'd grabbed her arm to make it look more convincing to potential passersby that he'd caught her at some mischief and was dragging her off to detention. That was the excuse he gave to himself, anyway. She'd looked murderous at his touch, which was partially amusing. And when she'd threatened to kiss him, well, he began to feel the hot prickle of desire rise inside of his stomach, and it took every ounce of his strength not to tell her that she'd better be prepared to make good on her threat.

_Anger. Anger and disdain. And maybe a fierce, lip curling sneer to boot. Yes. Perfect._

Instinctively, he'd snarled at her and said the first biting thing he could think of, which was hard, considering that his mind was starting to go fuzzy at the edges the way it had when she'd kissed his scars. His private library and the things they had shared together felt a million miles away, like they'd happened to someone else.

And, of course, in his anger, he'd become sloppy. He'd almost divulged the secret he'd been trying to protect, and what was worse, Dumbledore had been within earshot, sneaking up on them like some sort of damnable gauche purple cat burglar. It was only by sheer luck that the old fool had interrupted him before he'd finished his tirade.

It had been surprisingly easy to take his desire and redirect it towards his anger, especially since his plans were so completely ruined by Dumbledore's steadfast refusal to allow him to continue on his way with the girl. If the Headmaster saw him going into his office with her too often, he would grow suspicious. Snape knew that he could not make any direct attempts to fetch Hermione without drawing more attention to himself, but he did make sure to make comments about how he would be extra careful to keep an eye out to catch her at mischief next time, which, all things considered, was the best he could do with Daddy Lion Dumbledore protecting his Gryffindor cubs like the hypocritical bastard he was.

The only thing he could do after that was to retreat quickly, hoping that he looked angry enough about having been thwarted in issuing detention and nothing more. He did not wish to dwell upon what would happen if the Headmaster's curiosity were aroused. Dumbledore had a way of asking questions that bordered on maddening, and he did not want to land on Albus's bad side yet again in less than a day.

* * *

On his way down to the dungeons, Snape had handed out no less than ten detentions, taken twenty-five points from Hufflepuff for disrespectful behavior, taken fifteen points from Ravenclaw for giggling at the Hufflepuff display of cheek, and twenty points from Gryffindor for being looked at in a way he didn't like by that blowhard McLaggen. He was still highly irritated, but the rage from earlier had quieted into more of a dull roar in his chest.

He entered the Slytherin common room quietly, surprising a small group of first years who had been studying their potions textbooks and finishing up some last minute homework in a corner. He nodded at them, which was generally the extent of his affection to the students of his house, and they nodded back respectfully. He caught one of the seventh year boys bullying a half-blood second year near the fireplace, and gave them both a lecture about how solidarity in their house was more important than blood at this juncture, especially seeing as Slytherin was still only barely in the lead with Ravenclaw closing in on them, and that if they both really wanted to put as much energy into their studies and beating out the other houses for the House Cup as they were putting into their petty blood disputes, Slytherin would have won the past six years instead of being soundly thrashed into oblivion by those godawful Gryffindors.

_Good. Now I'm the bad guy. I can practically feel the two of them sneering at the back of my head, united against me. There's no way to stop bullying faster than making people form alliances against Horrible Professor Snape. Pity Slughorn made no effort to do similar when I was a student. He likes being comfortable and well-liked too-bloody-much._

He almost smiled, but caught himself- it would not do to appear weak or uncharacteristically _happy_ in the presence of students. Happiness was weakness when you were the bad guy, even muggles knew that. It was so incredibly _useful_ to play the part of the bad guy. When you were the enemy, you could unite even the most unlikely enemies. You could push others into action, motivated by their anger. Angry enemies who didn't understand how to control the fire of rage made mistakes, and mistakes were useful. Especially when you had as many scars as Severus Snape.

It was only once he had stepped through the concealing wall from the Slytherin common room that he dared to smile, which was short-lived as he immediately found himself almost running headlong into Dumbledore. His mind immediately lit up with curses and swear words that would have made a balrog blush, but he set his jaw and simply stared malevolently at the man so that he would not show how such a sudden appearance had unnerved him.

"Ah, Severus, I had hoped to catch up to you later," Albus was pushing his half-moon spectacles back up on his nose with a finger on his good hand, "I don't suppose you might be willing to take a walk with me to discuss it?"

"I am not a fool," Snape replied darkly, "I know that this is not a request, so I suppose that I shall _have_ to follow you."

"Oh don't be such a sourpuss, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled, and began walking at a steady pace towards the entrance to the dungeons, "I was merely suggesting that a breath of fresh air might do you good before we take our evening meal in the Great Hall."

Snape rolled his eyes behind Dumbledore's back as he followed. He had no desire for fresh air or sunlight, but he knew that Albus was rather fond of chatting while walking through the light autumn chill, and today was no different. When they reached the outer stairs to the castle, the sun was still dipping slowly over the far hill, sending deep swaths of orange and scarlet into the sky.

"Red at night, sailor's delight," the Headmaster said suddenly, as he began walking a path around the outside of the school that most of the students avoided due to its proximity to the windows of the lowest level, which Peeves and Filch both regularly used for spying and ambushes, as well as its lack of privacy for romantic liaisons.

"I am fairly certain that you did not drag me out here to recite poetry," Snape said wryly, "So I would appreciate it greatly if you could actually speak to me about the matter you've been turning about in that great white skull of yours before I lose the last shreds of my patience and say things that should probably not be said in polite company."

"I am going to speak candidly then, so I hope you will forgive me," the Headmaster turned and looked Snape up and down as though appraising him, his tone changing to a darker, more serious growl, "I am concerned with your behavior towards what I like to call the Golden Trio. Your fixation on Harry, Ron and Hermione was generally easy for me to take a blind eye to in the past because you did sprinkle in some important information in the guise of being the prickly and surly professor that we all know and love."

Snape snorted, laughing derisively at the sentiment.

"But now things have changed," Albus continued, holding his withered hand within an inch of Snape's hooked nose as though it were a dead rat, "And our timetable for preparing our three students to play their integral parts in this conflict is growing shorter. Very soon, they very well may be completely on their own, and they will need the skills to survive in the dangers that they are sure to face. I can't have you dragging any of them into time intensive or dangerous detentions when they should be preparing for the final battle...among other things."

"You do know that it will be incredibly strange if I suddenly change my normal manner of behavior," Snape crossed his arms and tried to put on his best scowl.

"Do I detect a note of sentimentality in your voice, Severus?" Albus's eyes softened again in that infuriating sympathetic way that made Snape want to scream.

"No! I-I just-It isn't wise to simply change the way that I normally interact with them because who knows how much the Dark Lord can see due to his connection with Potter. Lord knows that his occlumency skills are a sight better than our little Boy Who Lived. And while we have no confirmed instances of his interference or attempts at possession since the Ministry debacle, are we really willing to bet that he is not going to use every avenue that can be explored to his advantage?"

At this, the Headmaster's face became thoughtful and he was silent for a long moment.

"As usual, Severus, you think of things in shades and subtleties that I, in all my big picture machinations overlook," Dumbledore said finally, "Very well, you may still be your usual _charming_ self, but let's do our best not to overly burden our young friends with anything that will keep them from learning what they need for their...future adventures. Are we understood?"

Snape sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes, "Yes, Albus, I shall endeavor to do my best to adhere to your...specifications."

The sun had almost made its way completely behind the distant hills as they fell silent, and there was a chill in the air that had not been there earlier. Albus shivered slightly and Severus guessed that the purple and gold robes he was wearing were not nearly as thick and protective as his own inky black wool cloak.

"Shall we make our way back inside for the evening meal?" he said civilly as Albus used his good hand to cover the blackened one with his sleeve in preparation for making his evening appearance in the Great Hall.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore's face had once again become impossible to read, "I do believe that the aches and pain of my age are no match for this chill. I hear that after tonight's main course, our talented kitchen staff will be serving lemon custard for dessert. I do so love the flavor of lemon, don't you?"

Snape made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat but said nothing further as he walked in step with the Headmaster up through the main gates of the castle.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38: The Dragon and the Moon**

Draco had spent a frustratingly futile Sunday afternoon in the junk room incarnation of the Room of Requirement working on his...project. He'd gotten so upset with his lack of progress that he ended up kicking over a large, empty bookcase in frustration. For the first time in almost a week, he grinned with satisfaction at the resounding domino-effect crash that rang through the impossibly large space before he finally decided he needed a break.

Stepping carefully out of the door so that no one would notice, he jumped almost a foot in the air when Luna Lovegood appeared mysteriously behind him, making her presence known by tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he snarled with his heart in his throat, turning around in shock and narrowing his eyes at the girl wearing a silver shirt that appeared to be made of some kind of foil with her school uniform skirt and a hat that looked something like a knitted tree with little red spots that he supposed were felt approximations of fruit. Her long blonde hair was braided into pigtails, which were draped around the front of her shirt and tied together with a ribbon like some kind of hair necklace. Her eyes were dreamy as she spoke.

"Oh, it's just you," she said absentmindedly, as though she had been expecting someone else, "Hello Draco. It's nice to get up to the seventh floor once in awhile and remember past good times. Is that what you're doing here too? I'm sure you felt pretty good when you caught all of us in the DA for Umbridge last year, after all."

Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable and his eyes shifted to the floor as the strange Ravenclaw girl appeared to stare through him as though she was looking through his skin.

"None of your business," he scoffed, but his voice lacked the venom that he'd intended to include with the words.

"Oh?" she seemed intrigued and drew closer to him, her eyes wide as she stared at his forehead.

"Wait, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped uncomfortably as he tried to step back but his back hit the wall instead, effectively trapping him.

"I thought I saw some Squibbly Marfles hiding in your hair," she said, as though the existence of Squibbly Marfles was common knowledge, "But I would need a closer look to confirm. They are responsible for premature balding in men as they love to eat the roots of hair, starting at the front of the head and working their way back. You're not quite a man, though, so they might just be babies- _they _only eat dandruff. If you're looking to get rid of them, I could offer you a remedy. My grandmother actually invented it, though my grandfather had lost most of his hair before she could find the proper mix of ingredients."

Draco tried sidestepping against the wall, but Luna followed him lightly, mirroring his steps as though they were doing some sort of silent dance.

"You know, you shouldn't try so hard to act like a tough guy and go it alone," she said, and he felt unnervingly compelled to meet her eyes, "I can smell the pain and the fear and the loneliness on you. I know that smell well- you could say that I'm intimately acquainted with it, with almost everyone calling me Looney and hiding my things when they think that I'm not looking."

"I don't smell anything," Draco scoffed uncomfortably, glaring at her but still afraid to break contact with her wide, almost white blue eyes. He felt uncomfortably frozen and exposed without his favorite lackies nearby.

"Oh, you wouldn't," Luna stuck a finger out, running it lightly down the side of his face where a small drop of sweat had been traveling slowly, and then stuck it in her mouth, tasting it thoughtfully, "Yep. I'd say pain, fear, loneliness and...hmm, interesting."

"What?" Draco said, his voice slightly breaking as he tried to mentally process the fact that the craziest girl on campus had _just tasted his fucking sweat_. What was she going to do next? Bite him? Tear out his throat? There was something shockingly feral and unpredictable about her, and it terrified him.

"You taste like lust. Lust with a slight tinge of death," she said quietly, running her fingers up the side of her wand, which he noticed was tucked behind her ear and through some of the wide looping crochet work of her hat. As he stiffened in fear, her voice grew more focused with each word, "You would do well to tread carefully these next couple of months unless you wish to be the engineer of unnecessary deaths."

Luna's eyes closed and she stepped back suddenly, spinning around as though she didn't have a care in the world. Then she winked while holding his gaze with one eye and pointed her finger right at his nose as she smiled enigmatically.

"You're doing yourself a disservice thinking in your heart of hearts that you're unimportant and trying to prove yourself to be as important as certain _others_," she said and giggled in a way that made Draco incredibly uncomfortable, "In fact, you're just as important. Maybe even more. You're the one that the fate of our school rests on, who knows the punchline to the joke, the answer to the mystery. You have a choice, even if you tell yourself that you don't. Does _it_ still hurt you when you sleep? Do you even sleep at all? Do you delight in bringing death? I wonder, what has he told you that is worth the lives of over a thousand souls?"

"Don't talk like you understand what is going on," he growled ominously, "You're just making shit up. No one is going to die. You're just biased against Slytherins and think we're all evil Death Eaters. You may be from a pureblooded family, but I don't have to tell you shit. It's not like we're even friends anyway."

"Yes, friends," Luna looked through him as though remembering, "Do you have friends, Draco? It seems like you're pretty alone, yourself."

"That's none of your fucking business," Draco sneered, and he finally took a chance to break away from her, taking long strides until he was practically running towards the stairs.

"You're funny, Draco. I like you," Luna was somehow keeping up next to him as she spoke and not even breaking a sweat or breathing hard the way he was, "You know, it doesn't have to be this way. It doesn't have to be like this. _You_ don't have to be like this. You have a choice."

"No I don't, ok?!" he finally spat as he tried to catch a breath on the fifth floor landing, "I _don't _have a choice. It will happen whether or not I have a hand in it and if I don't, then let's just say that a lot more people are going to get hurt. People I care about, ok?!"

He had no idea why he was saying anything to the strange and loopy girl who was following him like a silvery shadow, but it wasn't as though either of them were speaking in definite statements about concrete events. And it was somewhat liberating to tell the truth to the crazy girl that no one would believe.

Luna cocked her head to one side and she smiled serenely.

"The only reason you don't think you have a choice is because you don't realize what you're capable of," she said simply, "Even if you do evil things, you are still capable of good. Even if you make the wrong decisions, it doesn't mean you have to continue to do so. That is, unless you've been bitten by a Finibly Wibbet. Their venom makes you act like a brainless ruffian until you can be injected with the antidote. You haven't by any chance been bitten by something that looks like a purple toad with a long, alligator snout and tufts of hair sprouting from its nostrils in the shape of a handlebar moustache?"

Draco snorted at the mental imagery of such a creature and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh!" she shouted excitedly, "Pervasive eye-rolling is one of the symptoms! Would you say that it's been pervasive?"

"It's a wonder that they only call you 'Looney,' you know," he said with a smirk, continuing down the stairs at a pace intended to throw her off. He failed miserably. And when she suddenly grabbed his arm, he only made a half-hearted attempt to shrug it off because he was begininng to understand that Luna Lovegood wasn't exactly someone who could be reasoned with.

"We can't go into the Great Hall," she said seriously, "I get the impression that you'll be seen by someone you don't want to see."

Draco felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He'd almost forgotten that he was still at odds with his Head of House. He'd not seen Professor Snape for almost the entire weekend, and it had been kind of a relief, but it was one that he realized would not be possible for much longer. He decided to humor the strange girl, because being seen with "Looney" Lovegood would no doubt be less humiliating than the possibility of having a row with Snape in front of the Gryffindors. While Draco was fairly certain that Snape would not approach him in front of so many people, something told him that he'd lose his appetite the second he felt those black eyes glaring at him from the Head Table.

"Well where are we going to get some food, then?" he said irritably, "I haven't eaten all day and I'm starved."

"Oh, that's not a problem at all," Luna linked her arm around his and pulled him down an unfamiliar corridor, "We just need to get to the pear."

"I don't even like pears!" Draco exclaimed.

"Oh, don't worry," she said mysteriously, "I'll just tickle it. You don't have to eat it or anything."

"You're crazy," he said, rolling his eyes again.

"No, I'm clever and know _things_. You simply don't understand," she said, smiling vaguely at him, "There's a difference, you know."

* * *

Draco hadn't been as stuffed as he now felt in a long time, and considering the number of courses available at mealtimes in the Great Hall, that was saying something. Luna had delivered and the best part was that he didn't have to eat any pears at all. The kitchens had been hectic and busy, but the house elves had been overly happy to set aside a small table for Luna and Draco to eat, bringing them virtually anything they asked for, though they had trouble accommodating Luna's request for braised Snarfquats, whatever _those_ were.

She'd made him laugh with her strange, almost cryptic way of speaking and odd ideas about invisible creatures that he highly doubted existed, but to some extent it almost made him feel like a normal student for the first time in more than a year, and with no one around to impress or keep up appearances for, he felt somehow more free than he had in practically forever. He actually smiled a genuine smile a couple times, though he tried to hide it behind his napkin so she wouldn't see it. Of course, she had caught him each time, but there were worse things in the world.

By the time they had finished, it was almost eight o'clock and the curfew was about to go into effect. As a Prefect, Draco didn't have as much trouble dealing with slightly later wanderings in the castle as he could say that he was helping younger students find their way, but Luna did not have any special privileges, so he walked with her up the steep stairways to the high tower where Ravenclaw tower perched.

"You've been most agreeable this evening, Draco," she said softly as she unhooked her arm from his (When had she done that? Why hadn't he noticed?), "I know you're dealing with plenty of stuff that you can't talk about, but if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. After all, I can't always be on the lookout for Nargles or searching for Piffet Tubblies, you know?"

Before he could react, she sprang toward him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Stunned, he stood frozen as she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and then looked thoughtfully at the ceiling before smiling slowly.

"You taste a lot better now," she said airily, "I can detect just a hint of joy, actually. That's a good thing. Now you'll need to go or the knocker won't give me the riddle to let me into the tower. It's wary of students from other Houses, you know."

As he turned stiffly to go, he heard her giggling at the small knocker on the door to the tower as though she were hearing an absolutely hilarious joke and shook his head, smirking at how insane she was while also somehow being insanely smart.

For the rest of the evening, he could swear that he felt a burning heat in the shape of the imprint of her lips on his cheek, and he kept reaching up to trace the invisible mark with his finger until at last he finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39: Seeking Snape**

Ten o'clock. _Ten o'clock_. _**Ten o'clock**_.

Hermione's mind was stuck in a loop thinking about how Snape had emphasized his last words before storming off and leaving her with the Headmaster.

It might have been just his way of emphasizing the level of unpleasantness he planned for detentions in the future, but something told her that he hadn't become Dumbledore's spy to only be underhanded when the Headmaster requested it.

_It must be a code. He must want us to visit tonight at ten. _

Hermione furrowed her brow as she had the distinct feeling that this wasn't quite the correct answer, but nodded slightly to show Lily she had heard. Dinner had been surprisingly normal for her first night back in the Great Hall, once she had finished filling her messenger bag to bursting in the library. She had decided to waste no time now that she had limitless book privileges, borrowing as many books as she could carry not only for her research for Lily but also other classes and assorted topics for which she had personal interest.

She'd almost looked over at the Head Table for Snape before she realized how risky that would be, especially considering the fact that Dumbledore had seen them together less than an hour before. It wouldn't do to draw more attention to herself than necessary. As she had lifted a cup of pumpkin juice to her lips, she had whispered out the side of her mouth to Lily to check for her, and Lily had confirmed that his black eyes were focused rather scarily at the Hufflepuff table at a collection of very obviously hungover students who were making very unflattering impressions of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. One curly-haired boy was using a carrot to simulate a hooked nose with one hand and then made a raucous farting noise as he lifted the back of his robes with his other hand as his friends laughed derisively.

"Damn bat took a shitload of points from everyone but Slytherin this afternoon," McLaggen drawled loudly at the Gryffindor table, "If you ask me, old Snape is finally cracking up. Can't handle students having a bit of fun. He's probably allergic to it, the poor sod."

There was a moment of panic for Hermione as Ron and Harry sat across from her, but when she pulled out a dusty tome about runes to hide behind, Ron rolled his eyes in a way that made Hermione irritated enough to banish her nervousness. Even though her make up was still basically as immaculate as it had been when Parvati had applied it earlier, her hair had begun to snarl and curl into its customary bushy appearance while she was doing research at the library, and she guessed that the charm in the peppermint balm was either not supposed to work for an entire day or her hair was simply such a challenge that it was breaking free of its own accord. At least it meant that no one was staring at Best Hermione all that much, though Harry gave her a funny look before he got distracted by one of Ron's terrible Quidditch jokes, using a silly high-pitched voice to emphasize the punchline.

Apparently, both boys had spent most of the weekend practicing Quidditch and working on stilling Ron's nerves on the field. Each evening, they crawled into bed and passed out almost immediately from all the exertion. Ron made a snarky comment to Hermione about how there was more to life than studying musty books all weekend, and she had replied in an equally snaky tone that he ought not to speak of things about which he was wholly ignorant. Harry had just stared back and forth between the two arguing friends uselessly. It was no wonder Dumbledore had wanted her assistance. If Harry couldn't even handle arguing friends, how was he supposed to defeat Voldemort? She vowed silently that she would redouble her efforts to cover all of her bases, as well as the bases of her friends. Regardless of what was coming, she wanted to be prepared. Even if Ron was determined to continue acting like a total prat.

_How are we going to get into his office, though, even if we can get there unseen by Filch or Mrs. Norris? I doubt Sev is willing to keep the door open on the off-chance you got his coded message. He has too many enemies and from the look of the Hufflepuff table, it seems quite likely there will be more than one student out for vengeance the next couple days._

Hermione had been thinking about that as well. There was something about what he had said, but she couldn't quite remember...something that made her think about Dumbledore and Harry, and the password Harry used to get in to see him…

"Hermione!" a voice called out and Lavender appeared to her left, sliding down the wooden bench as though she'd slipped out from under an invisibility cloak, "I got the things you needed from me! I just have one more to get!"

Hermione smiled distractedly. She was still trying to put the pieces together in her mind.

"Oh, hi there, Ron," Lavender said shyly, then she turned to Harry and asked him how he felt about being the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Lavender attempted to steal glances at Ron while he obliviously started arguing with Harry about some new Quidditch regulation and whether or not the schools should add it to their official Quidditch guidelines since it would be affecting all professional level teams; after all, scouts might show up at the school looking for fresh talent, and if students were playing with outdated rules, it might affect their recruiting decisions. Parvati walked quietly up and dragged a dreamy-eyed Lavender away, but not before quietly whispering to Hermione that she too had been successful in her afternoon activities.

_Do you think it was a password? Dumbledore has them sometimes so that people with appointments can get in._

"You're a genius!" Hermione exclaimed more loudly than she had intended, and Harry stared at her with a look that made her think she must have grown a third eye.

"See?" Ron said cockily, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head, "Even Miss What's-So-Great-About-Quidditch herself thinks that we should add it to the school's Quidditch matches."

Hermione blushed and stuck her tongue out at him and suddenly she realized that he was staring full-on at her, really _looking_ at her as though he had been struck silent. His face began to grow as red as his hair and the second he gulped thickly, she knew she was in trouble. She felt a strange tingling sensation in her stomach and realized at once what it must be. Quickly, she grabbed her bag and bolted from the Great Hall as her friends watched her with confused expressions on their faces.

"Bathroom!" she said urgently as she twisted around slower moving students who were also exiting, hoping that it would explain her outburst, but she was past worrying what others thought and as she ducked into the nearest girls' bathroom, she felt her hair changing around her face as her consciousness slid out of her body like a hand from a glove.

When she finally spoke again, it was in that whispery voice that she'd become so used to hearing from Lily.

_Oh Lily! What are we going to do? We need to figure out some way of getting to his office before ten o'clock! I've realized it's not the time we need to be there, it's the __**latest time we can be there if we want the password to work.**_

"But what about the password? Do you have any idea?" LIly's voice was puzzled as it echoed against the high stone walls.

_Yes, actually. I believe that it should be "__**burnt cauldrons**__." _

Lily looked incredulous, "How did you figure that one out?"

_You remember how he mentioned I'd have to clean them with my bare hands? I figured it out. Dumbledore makes all his passwords into candy names because that's his favorite thing. But what is Professor Snape's favorite thing? Well, other than being an evil bastard, that is._

"Potions," whispered Lily, and a smile broke across her face.

_Exactly. So, then, we only have a little over three hours to get from here to Snape's office without being seen by anyone or running into Dumbledore. My prefect badge might help us out, but first we need to solve our biggest problem._

"And what's that?" Lily sounded puzzled.

_How are we going to do any of this while you're walking around looking like the spitting teenage image of Harry's dead mum? I mean, maybe we can wait a little bit and hope that you change back into me, but if that doesn't work, we're going to need a second plan of action._

"Hmm," Lily said thoughtfully, after at least a half hour sitting in silence with absolutely no change whatsoever, and she pulled Hermione's wand from the zip flap of the messenger bag, "Do you think that I might try a few charms with your wand?"

_I'm not sure if it will work all that well for you. Wands choose their users, and you haven't won the wand's allegiance, but you might as well try since I can't exactly use it in my state._

"Well, that's the thing," Lily said softly, "I know you have been attempting non-verbal spells in Defense, right? Maybe I can do the movements and you can do the casting silently, and we can work things out between the two of us?"

_It's worth a try._

"Oh don't sound so doubtful!" Lily giggled and then told Hermione what charm she wanted to cast.

_All right. Here goes...er, well...hopefully something. _

Lily made a tight series of movements with Hermione's wand while Hermione thought the proper words as hard as she could. It took at least five or six tries, but eventually, they were working together beautifully, and Lily had charmed a number of things to look different. She'd changed the sweater into a tunic and the jeans into a pair of capris. She'd made herself shorter, changed the color of her eyes and shortened her nose into a tiny buttonlike stub. She shrunk the messenger bag and its contents into a small handbag. She kept her hair red (the energy required to cast the spell after all the others was too much), but finally decided to tie it up in a ponytail, which greatly changed the shape of her face enough that the other changes made Lily look quite different indeed. As a final touch, she removed the Prefect badge and placed it in the handbag. She exited the stall and looked at herself in the mirror with dark, violet eyes.

"It'll do for what we need right now, which is to not be recognized," she said, turning from one side to the other.

_What I REALLY want to know is why we haven't changed back yet._

"I was wondering that as well," Lily murmured, running a finger over her strangely tiny nose, "But first, I think we ought to do our best to get to our destination without being caught."

_Agreed._

* * *

For once, the busy halls of Hogwarts worked in their favor. With all of the students milling about in an after-supper stupor, it was easy to be just another anonymous Gryffindor in a sea of faces. From time to time, Hermione gasped when she saw a familiar face, but without her prefect badge and in her charmed outfit, Lily did a fairly good job of looking nondescript. For a moment as they passed a dark alcove in one of the hallways, she thought she saw a familiar pale, hooked nose, but when she looked a second time, there was nothing there.

Luckily for the both of them, the droves of students thinned out as they neared the hallway where Snape's office was located. Lily kept to the shadows well, having had plenty of experience finding the perfect spots to swoop out when she'd still been connected to Snape. Hermione was beginning to realize that Lily Evans was scarily good at being completely silent when she wanted to be.

Hermione estimated that it was probably only slightly after Sunday curfew, and most of the Prefects would be standing at the Great Hall and directing younger students to their appropriate common rooms. She hoped that Ron wouldn't be too angry at her for forcing him to do all the work himself. He was surprisingly good with the younger students, she realized, even though he could be infuriatingly permissive. A part of her thought that he would be a good father one day. The other part was laughing too hard to make a counter argument.

When the door finally came into view, Lily made a small noise that almost sounded like "fuck" and Hermione saw why. There were two large lit torches on either side of the door to Snape's office, but this wasn't the problem. The problem was that there were a group of Hufflepuffs with their wands drawn trying to break down the office door, the loud boy who had made the carrot nose impression of Snape in the Great Hall appeared to be the ringleader, and he was bellowing about "regaining lost honor" and "smashing the bat's roost." Some of the other students began to look uneasy as repeated uses of _Alohomora_ failed, and Lily's face was beginning to fill with a kind of rage that made Hermione happy for the second time in so many days that Lily was not angry at _her_.

"Hermione, I want you to cast the _Boggartillio_ curse non-verbally. Do you think you can manage it? I know the wand motions," Lily said darkly, "These kids need to learn their lesson."

_Is that what I think it is? It's...I've never tried it before._

"No time like the present, eh?" Lily whispered, pulling Hermione's wand again and holding it at the ready from the alcove where she hid.

_I'll try, then._

On the third try, a greenish mist erupted from Hermione's wand and filled the hallway.

She heard one scream at first, then a chorus of frightened shouts as the students scattered in terror, the ghostly shapes of various frightening things chasing each of them. A giant spider made of mist chased a short brunette boy, threatening to snap at his heels and a smokey green fanged viper threatened to strike at a thickly set girl with glasses. Soon, the hall was empty, save for a small amount of green mist that curled around Lily's shoes impotently as she approached the door.

_You'll have to touch the door and say the password to enter._

"Okay, then," Lily straightened herself and placed her palm against the door.

Hermione held her breath, if such a thing were possible.

"_Burnt Cauldron_," Lily said quietly but clearly.

And just like that, the door slipped open quietly. Lily rushed through to avoid being seen with her heart hammering fiercely in her chest and shut the heavy door behind her with a sigh of relief.

"Took you long enough," said a familiar sarcastic voice from the darkness, and small green flames roared to life, lighting the entranceway. A tall figure stood in the darkness, his black robes blending into the gloom.

"Hi Sev," Lily said, smiling shyly.

"Who _are_ you and how did you get in!?" he snapped, his voice growing sharp as his wand hand twitched towards the folds of his cloak.

Silently, Hermione cast the reversal charms as Lily waved the wand over herself, regaining her familiar features, and he froze, his fingers hidden in the cloth where his wand was kept.

"L-Lilly?" his voice sounded strangely high-pitched as he said her name.

"Sev, you've got to help us," Lily said, biting her lip and closing the distance between them until she was so close that she was practically touching him, "We...changed places...back in the Great Hall something happened and it's been almost an hour and tomorrow is another week of classes and we need to figure something out or someone's going to figure out that something's amiss."

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, and he ran the back of his hand down the side of her face in a surprisingly gentle manner and Lily couldn't help but nuzzle into it, "Start over. Tell me. Exactly. What happened."

When Lily had finished, they stood there in silence, his hand still gently caressing her cheek. At some point, she'd grabbed the front of his robes to steady herself, and she continued to hold on, lightly pressing herself against him.

"I need you," Lily said, her eyes huge in the gloom, "Please, Sev. _We_ need you."

They simply looked at one another for a long moment, Lily's eyes glowing like emeralds in the green flamelight while his eyes seemed to grow darker until they appeared to swallow the meager light completely. And when they finally kissed, it was fierce and sudden and endless. There was no stopping. There was no time. There was only skin touching skin reaching inside of one another until they could barely remember to breathe.


	40. Chapter 40

_;) Beware, thar be sexytimes!_

_Author's Note: It's pretty amazing to be on Chapter 40 already! Just so you know, I may have to go down to every other day updates for chapters because my poor hands and wrists have been hurting lately, so if you could send me some encouragement, it would help greatly. All the tiger balm and wrist braces in the world are helping a little bit, but it's still a long, slow process. What I need is a personal masseuse, but then again, with my limited income, I doubt that's going to be a reality anytime soon. _

_Once again, I feel so thankful for the kind followers and especially those who take the time to comment on my story! You help me feel motivated to do what I do best- write stories with other people's intellectual property and gain no compensation whatsoever! Oh well, who knows, maybe this exercise will help my non-fanfiction writing get off the ground. World building is kicking my butt, though. Oh, and the first one to guess the song/artist that inspired today's chapter heading gets a digital cookie! Enough about my silly troubles, though, and on with the show!_

**Chapter 40: One More Time**

Neither of them remembered who had cast the Cushioning Charm on the floor. Neither of them remembered how they'd shed their clothing either, but the endeavor had been quick and singlemindedly handled.

Kiss for kiss, she matched the intensity of his need for her. Touch for touch, he matched the raw, powerful desire that poured from her body and together they filled the room with the sweetly cloying scent of sex.

She pushed him down, her red hair tickling the side of his face and neck. He snarled fiercely with desire, nibbling softly at her ear and kissing her neck as she gasped at his sudden gentleness and as soon as he sensed she was off guard, he suddenly rolled them both so that she was under him again, pressing his weight against her until she felt maddenly wet and began instinctively to try and raise her hips to meet his. He slid his hand firmly under her ass, cupping it firmly as she shifted to spread her legs out to either side of him, and the frantic heat of her against his body made him feel almost animalistic in his urge to fuck her at that very moment, to bury his cock deep inside of her until their bodies could meet no longer.

He met her eyes then, and his own widened in surprise. He could detect a faint pulse of honey brown in the green of Lily's gaze. As he kissed Lily's lips once more, he began to see the afterimage of another, thicker set. He could smell the magic in the room, building between them, and it only excited him further. The feeling of power was intoxicating, and he knew that both Lily and Hermione could feel it too. Lily's eyes rolled back into her head as he began to rub his hard cock against her vulva, and he could barely stand teasing her because it was also teasing him in the absolute worst way.

When he slipped inside of her at last, he had to bury his face in her shoulder to keep from crying out as loudly as his voice seemed to be doing all on its own. As though in sync with his own reaction, he could hear her own cry of pleasure, which was echoed by a second voice.

When he pulled back and held her gaze again, their bodies writhing together uncontrollably driven in their carnal purpose, their breaths drawn in gasps and moans, he could see a clearer outline overlaying Lily's physical form, and he knew that he was not imagining the soft whispery sounds of pleasure that mirrored the sharp, clear sounds that seemed to slip unbidden from Lily's lips as they bucked and rode against one another.

It seemed as though they were both riding a wave together as the hum of magic grew stronger between them. His heart, beating furiously in his chest seemed to match the pulse of Lily's heart and the flickering visage of Hermione's writhing, pleasure-struck form.

He could feel something huge growing inside of him, echoed in the pulses he could feel inside of her and they both rode it endlessly, neither caring to do anything but be swept along for the ride.

Orgasm built inside of him along with a feeling of deep meaning and purpose. Somehow, he knew that both Lily and the ethereal version of Hermione were feeling similarly awestruck with a profound sense of what was to come. Whatever his connection was to Lily through the _Anima Voti_ was being amplified and strengthened as though they were all becoming irreparably connected at the most intimate level.

As he felt himself peak, Lily shuddered and he felt languid waves of muscle contract and pulse against him until they were insistently fast, milking his cock as he held it deep inside of her, unable to move as he screamed at the intensity of his own completion, pouring wave after wave of thick, hot cum deep inside of her. He felt an overwhelming light burst inside his head and he blinked rapidly to clear the black spots that lingered in his line of sight.

When he nuzzled into her hair again, breathing her scent in tired and intermittant gasps, he felt her change underneath him, as soft, brown snarling locks curled around his fingers in a way that almost felt alive. Apparently the smoothing effect that she had achieved with her hair earlier had worn off completely in the face of such intense magic. To his surprise, he found that the bushy messiness of her hair simply seemed endearing to him instead of inspiring some disdainful assumption of untidiness as it had before.

Her wide eyes were watching his face as he rolled off and lay next to her, running his fingers through his hair so that it achieved a slightly greasy, slicked back look.

"That-" she said in a reverent whisper, "That was-"

Tears silently began to fall from her eyes and she brought her hands up to touch the wetness on her cheeks incredulously.

"-Ancient magic. Earth magic," he said softly, and felt his own cheeks grow wet as well, though he did not feel the slightest bit upset. Rather the opposite, in fact.

She touched his cheek softly, drying his tears with the side of her hand and she looked up at him again, her gaze full of something that had never fully been there before, and he began to feel a strange warm sensation building in the pit of his stomach as she continued to meet his eyes.

_What is this?_

He couldn't tear himself away, so lost in thought he was that when she said something else, it was as though he was hearing her voice from underwater. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.. He knew that he should feel alarmed and wary about all that had happened. If anyone found out about this...but he couldn't focus, the warmth and happiness filled him in a way that he had never experienced in all the miserable days of his life. The lingering scent of magic in the air was making his head feel light and fuzzy.

"What did you say?" he said softly, and he realized that his mouth was smiling as though it knew a secret that his brain did not.

"I said," she looked at him unblinkingly and raw and openhearted as she spoke, "I said that I love you, Severus Snape."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 42: Silence and Light**

The second Hermione had told Severus that she loved him, the world and everything in it seemed to slow down, seconds stretching endlessly as she watched his reaction. He had smiled just before she'd repeated her words, the kind of easy, happy smile she supposed he would have found familiar had he been well-cared for as a child or received any amount of reciprocated affection as an adult. But then he had heard her, and his eyes had widened and now he had sunk back behind an almost completely blank expression.

She watched his eyes desperately for a reaction. They were black and still, like the surface of a deep lake at midnight.

"I-" he began, then stopped as he tried to find the words.

When her eyes began to fill with unshed tears, he flinched and placed a hand gently on her bare shoulder, feeling a pleasant shivery afterimage of the magical electric hum they had built together earlier pass into his body.

"This is new...for me...as well," he began, his eyes shifting nervously to stare at the floor, "I am not used to being...loved. Hated? Yes. Begrudged? Most definitely. Disrespected? Disliked? Reviled? Yes to all. But...love? Even as a child, that word had no place in my parent's house."

"I guess that I have your answer, then," Hermione sniffed quietly and turned away from him, trying to hide her face so he wouldn't see how his words had wounded her.

"Hermione," his voice was soft, but something in it made her turn back and look at him.

She had never seen his face like this before. All of the familiar, tense lines had either softened or completely disappeared, replaced with a strange, relaxed expression that she couldn't quite place. It transformed his customary bitter, pinched look and made him look almost boyish somehow, as though years of torment had been erased.

"Yes, Severus?" she said slowly. Her voice was barely a whisper, but he seemed to shiver pleasurably as she said his name.

"I have very little experience in being loved," he said uncomfortably, looking away from her almost as though he were ashamed at the admission, "But as long as we are being honest to the point of mortification, I would like to assure you that I can indeed recognize love and what's more, I am capable of feeling that particular emotion towards others, even though it is a rarity as far as my cold, shriveled, black heart is concerned."

Hermione's mouth turned up a little on one side in the ghost of a sympathetic smile at his self depreciating joke, and he had to look away again to compose himself.

"The truth is, I'm almost impossible to love, and in fact, I often pride myself on being a prickly bastard. In my experience, love makes you vulnerable and losing it is like being torn apart and forced to live with a wound that never fully heals," he said with a raw sadness in his voice as he turned his gaze down next to Hermione where the shimmering sleeping outline of Lily lay where Hermione's shadow might have heen, her sides rising and falling though she had no true lungs with which to breathe.

Then, Severus Snape did something he had not been planning on doing; maybe it was the residual magic, arcing off their bodies like tiny solar flares that set it off, maybe it was just a whim that he could no longer control. Without warning, he closed the distance between their bodies and pressed up against her, holding her tightly against himself so that he could feel her skin sliding into contact with his as though they were meant to fit together.

With his chin resting on her shoulder, he turned to speak low and softly and intimately in her ear, his voice wavering in his utter vulnerability as he bared his heart to her.

"Lily was the first person I ever loved," he said, his voice breaking slightly at the flash of memory of their first meeting, "She was a friend, and she saved my life more than once. She was also the first person who broke my heart. But I never stopped loving her, even though it wasn't the same, never the same, after."

Hermione felt a stab of pain, even though she was expecting this from him. Of course, no one could compare with the great, the perfect Lily Evans. She wanted to scream, but she held herself back. She wasn't a child. Severus was not some toy her parents were denying her in a department store. If he did not care for her the way she cared for him, she had very little say in the matter. But if that was true, then why did it feel like someone was twisting a blade through her heart?

"Hermione," his voice was like a caress against her neck and she shivered at the pleasure of it. Why was he toying with her like this? She tried to pull away. His touch was maddening if she knew she could never have him.

"I wasn't finished," he growled low and she felt his lips against her neck as he kissed her lightly before continuing, "I have known for awhile that you are singularly talented in a way that the vast majority of your peers are not. In fact, you are one of the only students I can remember in all my years as a professor to develop an encyclopedic knowledge simply because you desired to do so. This is no idle complement; you have earned every bit of recognition through hard work and dedication. It was, indeed, hard to ignore you in class and force the other students to contribute, however pathetic their offerings might be, because otherwise you would have been ostracized even more than you have been, and they would rely unduly on you instead of spending the time to develop their own intellectual abilities, no matter how meager they may be. Believe me, I know the pain of being an outcast all too well."

He sighed and she let him pull her up into a sitting position with him, wrapping his arms around her soft, naked body in a firm but comfortable embrace. They both simply sat in silence for a long moment, feeling one another breathe. When he spoke again, his voice was hesitant and tinged with awkwardness.

"I know that I have said and done cruel things to both yourself as well as your friends. Some of those things I did for specific reasons, usually to mask the fact that I, the designated Hated Object of Hogwarts, was helping you or trying to protect you, but also, I confess, there have been times when I said or did thoughtless things simply because I knew I could, or to maintain my credibility as an enemy. There is no excuse for the pain and suffering I have caused. I do not expect forgiveness. But I also do not expect you to love someone who has caused you so much pain simply because you have shared this...improbably amazing...weekend with me."

She bit her lip fiercely and looked up at him, fire burning in her gaze, noticing the color that had risen in his cheeks as he had confessed to how much he had enjoyed being with her _(and Lily, she conceded)_ the past few days, and she could tell that it wasn't simply the sex.

"You can't talk someone out of loving you, Severus," she said darkly, feeling somewhat satisfied when he flinched a little at the irritated look on her face, "You can convince yourself as much as you want that you are undeserving of affection, but you do not get to control how others feel-_how I feel_-about you."

He sighed deeply, and then he was tipping her face up to look into his unblinking obsidian eyes.

"That's the problem," he said seriously, and her heart was leaping with each carefully measured word, "I am not afraid of being loved by you. I am, however, utterly terrified at how much I fear I love _you_, even though I shouldn't allow myself to succumb to such a weakness, especially with the dark deeds that I have done in the past and the darker deeds that I have yet to do."

"Wait, what did you say?" Hermione's eyes were wide.

"You mean the dark deeds I have done or have yet to do? Or the fact tha-"

She shook her head forcefully, interrupting him.

His eyes shifted a little and she saw a slight color rise along his jaw, and she suddenly realized that Severus Snape, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, was _pouting_.

The idea was hilerious and Hermione could barely contain the giggle that threatened to burst from her mouth of its own accord.

He caught her eyes with his own then and an answering smirk played across his own lips.

"Oh, so you think that dark deeds of darkness are funny, do you?" he said sarcastically, but his eyes held no malice.

Hermione was laughing openly now.

"Dark deeds...of _darkness_!" she managed between peals of laughter. It wasn't even all that funny, but somehow it had broken the tense atmosphere between them and he was trying to hide laughter of his own behind his hand, while sporting an amused look across his face.

She was so focused on the hilarity of the entire situation, that when he suddenly drew down and kissed her silent, she felt as though her breath had been stolen from her.

When he met her eyes as he drew back, he looked open and...was he actually...happy?

"I love you, Hermione," he said softly as the words struck her and sent waves of heat and light through her body, "How could I not? Other than Lily, you are the only one who has ever loved me, or attempted even to like me. And I cannot promise to always be likable. I cannot promise to always treat you the way I feel you ought to be treated. But, as luck would have it, you have stolen my heart, black and scarred as it might be, so I ask you, please, do be kind to it. Very few others have bothered to do so before."

Hermione was beginning to feel lightheaded as his words sunk in. It was as though she was watching herself from far away in a dream.

He looked at her seriously, and she could see how vulnerable he was making himself for her. Hermione's heart was beating so quickly, she feared that it would begin to echo off the stone walls around them.

"All joking aside, my real question is: will you accept my..heart?" He tried for an even tone, but his voice cracked embarrassingly at the last word and he looked away, ashamed for having said something so mushy and ridiculous. But he felt her soft hands grip his shoulders and he was compelled to meet her eyes again.

As his mouth turned up slightly in a hopeful, waiting expression, Hermione's eyes softened and a smile spread across her face as though a stray ray of sunshine had broken through to alight on her lips, and he basked in that smile, knowing that it was for him, and him alone.

And when she finally kissed him again, she couldn't help but whisper his name between the meeting of their mouths, over and over, as though it were the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42: There Are More Difficult Things**

Rosmerta scratched her head. Why had she come into this room again? Things had felt blurry and unfocused lately. Sometimes it was hard to think about things. Things...and stuff? Oh well, maybe she could recall it later.

All she knew was that she needed to see Draco again. He was always so kind, always so attentive. He liked her, he liked what she could do. She did _so_ wish to please him. He said that it made him happy. She wanted to make him happy. He'd know what to do.

She tended bar, kept up appearances as he had told her to do. Smile at the patrons. Listen patiently. But she just wanted to see him again. Be useful. She did _so_ love being useful.

Rosmerta was not a vain woman, but she worried. Even though he seemed to like her, she was so much older. Even though she generally took good care of her body and knew a couple of charms to keep herself looking her best, she still knew that she was no match for the fresh faced girls in the early bloom of their lives. How could he see anything in her when he was young enough to be her son?

She giggled to herself, embarrassed at the thought. She had never wanted children or the complications of marriage. She was partial to spending her free time with the witches and wizards of her choice, be it in or out of the bedroom, and did not want to have to share her business or free time with someone who thought that just because he was a man, he was in charge. Other than Draco, of course. His ideas were all good ideas, after all.

Rosmerta did not consider herself picky about age or gender. She liked people she liked and if they were willing, and so was she, there was no harm in having a little fun now and again, now was there? Once, on a trip to London, she had even enjoyed the evening company of a delightfully skilled muggle. But she did not generally consider herself a free spirit in terms of love. She simply knew what she liked and went for it and refused to feel any guilt or shame for following her heart.

She hated feeling like she was forgetting something. It was like a little tickle at the back of her throat, manageable but irritating nonetheless. It made her want to scream. Draco _did_ so love it when she screamed for him. The thought made her smile wistfully.

She opened her safe for about the fiftieth time (she wasn't sure about that number, though, it was more of an approximation as the time seemed to slip away from her) to make sure the Package was still there. She had wanted to open it ever since it had arrived, delivered by a vile, lumpy, potato sack of a witch who even Rosmerta had trouble smiling at in greeting when she had entered the pub. She had used the communication coin to ask Draco what he wished for her to do, but all he had replied with was _"wait."_

It was hard to wait. So hard.

But Draco had told her to wait and she wanted nothing more than to obey him.

She sat on her bed, looking forlornly at the Package as it sat in the open safe across from her vantage point and she felt almost certain that it was mocking her, well, as much as an inanimate object could mock anyone.

She swung her feet back and forth like an impatient child and absently turned the communication coin over in her hand. No new messages appeared, but she turned it over twice to make sure.

She desperately wanted to see him again. Somewhere, deep inside of her, there was an abject feeling of wrongness, but she couldn't focus on what it could possibly be.

Maybe Draco would tell her when he returned. She resolved to ask him the moment she saw him again.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43: Trouble Brewing**

Monday morning arrived like a particularly loathsome beast. The gray, rainy weather that had firmly attached itself over Hogwarts castle didn't do much to improve the general mood, either.

Hermione felt dead on her feet. Not only did she feel weary down to her bones from all of the _physical activity_ of the past weekend, but the emotional work she had engaged in had drained her as well. It was a good feeling, but she wished that she was snuggled under her comforter or, better yet, snuggled up against the warmth of the man she'd confessed her love to only hours before.

A lazy, dreamy smile played across her lips as she remembered when he'd told her that he felt the same about her. This wasn't the maddening game of trying to be noticed, even the tiniest bit, by someone who barely appeared to realize she was female. This was something deep and magical and amazing and terrifying; something she couldn't quite find the words to adequately describe. And she dared not tell anyone, as she could well imagine the response she would receive.

As the reverent afterglow of their passion had faded, they had both turned to discussing their findings in regards to Lily, who had slept on for ages and had not even roused slightly when Severus had begun an impassioned monologue about the near impossibility of building a Golem that could be sufficiently controlled by a specific spirit acting on its own rather than mechanically carrying out the plans of whosoever had created it. At some point, he had subtly apologized for the detention lie, but Hermione already knew that he had been doing it for a good reason, since she did not think that Dumbledore would take kindly to their extracurricular activities, especially as Severus gave her confirmation of her own suspicions; Dumbledore had groomed her to play the part of the brains of the group. Ron, she realized, with an uncomfortable twinge, was the heart. And Harry...well neither of them knew, really. He was important, but he wasn't the mastermind- that was Dumbledore. And Hermione could tell that there were still pieces to the puzzle that no one was sharing with her, and that made her angry. Angry and...curious. And curiosity usually meant that it was time to get to the library. She itched to put her hands to paper and close her fingers around leather bound covers and bury herself in the knowledge of ages, but she knew that she would be soon enough, she just needed to be patient.

By the time they had come up with a number of anti-transformation-into-Lily strategies, it was well past three in the morning. The best they could agree upon was that any intense feeling other than sexual arousal could interrupt the change, but once it had occurred, all of the evidence they had gathered so far seemed to show that there was only one way to reverse it.

"I guess we will be seeing quite a lot of one another, then," Hermione quipped, her face flushing as her tired brain finally realized the implications of what she had said.

Severus had coughed trying to hide a chuckle. She shot a glare at him, her cheeks burning. He smirked disarmingly and this time he didn't attempt to hide a deep chuckle before he spoke again.

"While I would certainly not be adverse to seeing, as you put it, _more of you _too, it is also important that we also understand that it may not always be possible to do so without risking everything."

She had reddened even more deeply as he had kissed her cheek, a gesture that felt somehow loaded with meaning after all they had shared together. They both had kept coming up with excuses to touch one another, as though to reestablish the bond they had made together, and it was almost magnetic the way their bodies touched and held, pulling away only with great effort.

It was after this exchange that she brought up her "Ron Plan," though she was careful to avoid using Ron's name. He was one of her oldest friends and deep feelings did not simply disappear because of...whatever this was she had with Lily and Severus. She saw the way his pale jaw tightened when she mentioned that this boy had inadvertently caused her to transform in the Great Hall simply by looking at her in a certain way, and she was glad that he did not demand his name right then and there in a righteous rage. She had to remind Severus that it would be hard to send someone to detention for something that was supposed to be a secret, but he had replied quietly that as long as he was paying attention, he was sure he would be able to find a reason to detention the _little bastard_ into the next millennium. This was incredibly humorous to Hermione, as Ron was now probably at least as tall as the man before her, but she didn't share the reason for her secret smile when he asked her about it, silencing his irritated tirade by placing her lips softly against his own and pressing herself to him until he shuddered with pleasure.

Begrudgingly, he gave her the ingredients she would need for Lavender's potion, and she had stored them in her messenger bag. She had also finally removed the butterbeer bottle and given it to him as he grumbled about how he was going to have a time and a half trying to figure out the individual ingredients of this potion based on the paltry amount left over in the bottle. Hermione noted with a smirk of satisfaction that although his words were phrased as complaints, his intrigued tone of voice and interested body language said otherwise. He was going to have fun with this puzzle, she could tell. The rest of their time together simply seemed to fly by as they worked together.

In fact, Hermione had only been able to return to her dorm room a few hours before she would have to wake up with the rest of her fellow sixth year students, aided by a single drop of Felix Felicis that Severus had given her from his private stores to see her back safely and without notice.

She had protested at first, knowing that he had precious little of the luck potion left, but he had counter-argued that he could brew more if he needed it, being a potions master and all. He also reminded her of the serious trouble they would both be in if one of the many prying eyes in the castle were to see her coming from the direction of his office at such a ludicrous hour.

It seemed as though she had just crashed into bed when she found herself being roused by two sets of hands insistently shaking her awake.

"Wuzg'non?" she slurred and realized that Lavender and Parvati were attached to the reason she was being shaken so violently.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty!" Lavender said brightly, "Time to rise and shine and get started on that potion!"

Hermione groaned and tried to run her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face, giving up halfway because it became instantly apparent how wretchedly tangled beyond repair it was. She shook her head instead and stray snarly curls detached themselves from her cheeks and moved out of the way of her sleep-filled eyes.

She rubbed her eyes grumpily and grunted at the two overly excited girls to let them know that she was getting up. A quick glance at the clock told her that she didn't have to be down for breakfast for about an hour. Ginny appeared to have gotten up already, probably to catch an early morning snog session with Dean or finish homework in the common room that she had put off because she had been snogging her boyfriend all weekend. Hermione guessed that the latter was more likely. Dean Thomas was most certainly not a morning person.

Once Hermione had dressed herself and tamed her unruly hair into a loose ponytail so it was away from her face, she got to work setting up her spare cauldron (she kept one in case Neville, who was technically her first Hogwarts friend, melted his, which was almost a bi-weekly occurrence in past years, though this year had seemed promising indeed. Maybe his new wand was part of it, but after the altercation at the Ministry, he seemed to have matured quite a bit).

Conjuring up a flame that only affected the cauldron was almost second nature to her now and she added the ingredients that each of them had gathered, mostly from memory, checking her textbook only for the more involved preparatory and brewing steps. Finally, when the bubbling liquid turned a deep, thick, bloody red, Hermione removed it from the heat, stirring counterclockwise and holding her wand over the top, waving it gently until small, violet tufts of smoke curled and seemed to dance over its surface.

Hermione smiled and then called to the other girls, who had been helping one another create dark, daring lines around their eyes, which seemed to give them both a wide-eyed look of constant surprise. It was a look that had become very popular in _Witch Weekly's_ celebrity section the past few months.

"So, Lavender, were you able to get the..._special ingredient_?" Hermione tried to sound nonchalant, but it was hard to hide her nervousness. What if this was a repeat of the _PolyJuice_ fiasco in second year? She wasn't sure she could live it down if Lavender suffered some horrible fate due to a mix-up of ingredients.

"Oh, right!" Lavender bounded over and pulled a tiny vial out of her robes. There was a small tuft of hair inside.

"Are you sure they're-"

"-His? Positive!" Lavender's eyes gleamed deviously, "Pulled them from the back of his head last night just as McLaggen was walking nearby. You should have seen the row they got into! No one suspected me in the least and as an added bonus, I got to see my favorite boy looking all manly and fierce!"

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she added the final ingredient and watched the hairs burn to ash and sink under the mist at the top of the potion until it was swallowed by the thick red liquid below it. Then she siphoned it off into a large, round container and quickly sealed it with a black rubber stopper, adding a waxy magical seal that would turn bright green if broken around the top so that she could be sure it was not tampered with while it aged. Meanwhile, Lavender and Parvati, finished with their beauty ritual and now appearing bored with the whole potion making process, told Hermione that they were going down into the Great Hall to grab some breakfast and with a last longing look at her bed (which seemed even more warm and inviting than ever), she grabbed her schoolbag and reluctantly followed them down the stairs.

* * *

Sure enough, when Hermione got to the Gryffindor table, there was much talk about Ron's fight with McLaggen the night before over breakfast. Apparently, Neville and Seamus were the unlikely heroes of the hour, as both of them managed to tear the fight apart before McGonagall could arrive to take house points away and issue detentions. They appeared to be receiving a lot of attention from some of the younger Gryffindor students who had been in their dorm rooms during the altercation. The group sat silently with wide eyes as the two of them told the story, though Seamus seemed to be delighting in embellishing the tale quite a bit, judging by his ridiculous gestures. Neville was doing his part to fill in the blanks between Seamus's pauses, and his cheeks pinked a little bit as Seamus grabbed Neville's right arm and bent it as though making a giant bicep. When Ron sulked in the door with a fading purple and black bruise on the side of his face while holding his left arm rather gingerly, Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood to stop the pity and subsequent desire to hug him from rising to a dangerous level. After all, Lily still appeared to be asleep, but Hermione did not want to take any chances.

Harry sat down next to Hermione and Ron sat across from them both, wincing as he sat down.

"Hey Hermione, I guess we both missed the excitement last night," Harry said lightly, giving her a piercing look that made her feel compelled to refocus his attention.

"I was in the library, you know," she said haughtily, "So you _would_ have seen me if you had been studying."

"You know, that's the thing," Harry said curiously, "I stopped back over at the library on my way back from Hagrid's and I couldn't find you anywhere. I also didn't see you in the common room. Strange, isn't it?"

Hermione felt the color drain from her face. For the first time ever, she was incredibly glad that he was utter rubbish at occlumency.

"Yeah, mate," Ron said to Harry, scarfing down a sausage with one hand and scrambled eggs with the other, the gingerness of his sore arm forgotten in his hunger, "I didn't see her in the common room either."

Hermione rolled her eyes and summoned her best irritated voice.

"For your information, I still need to use the toilet sometimes! I'm not some kind of supporting character in a story who only does things to move the plot along!" she huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from her friends.

"Oh, Hermione! You know I didn't mean it like that!" Harry backpedaled quickly. Ron just looked gobsmacked at her furious outburst and said nothing as he started on his fourth mug of pumpkin juice.

But Hermione resolved to use the pretense of being in a horrible mood to avoid possible transformations, and she rushed off to her first class of the morning before anyone else could ask her any more prying questions. It was hard to focus on Ancient Runes at first, but since most of her Monday classes were distinctly Ron-less, she found herself able to relax a little more, and the day flew by relatively uneventfully, except for when Lily woke up and asked what time it was and Hermione accidentally answered out loud, prompting a strange look from Seamus, who had taken the chair next to Hermione because it was the only one left and he was late to Arithmancy class (probably because he had kept at his ridiculous story, she thought ruefully). Hermione was pleasantly surprised that Seamus was actually highly skilled in Arithmancy as they worked on an in-class project together, even though he tried to downplay his skill when a cute gaggle of Hufflepuff girls passed by to speak to the professor.

"Seamus, this is really good work," Hermione said, impressed at his neat handwriting and clear diagramming work, "Why is this so surprising to me?"

He blushed at the compliment and scratched the back of his head as he looked away in embarrassment.

"Well, I've always been a big fan of numbers, right?" Seamus muttered, "Because, you see, they don't go all wobbly and kablooey like potions or require you to memorize stuff out of a book like in all those history classes. And blimey, don't get me started on essays. Those inches _kill_ me every time. But Arithmancy...it's just...poetic, you know? It fits. Ya just arrange the numbers in the right patterns and you can understand the entire universe. It's simply mindblowing!"

Hermione smiled. It was good to see her fellow Gryffindor students find magic that suited them. When Neville had begun to excel in Herbology, Hermione had thrown him a little party for his first full marks class as encouragement, even though only Ginny and Luna had turned up. And even though she was utter shit at Divination, she delighted in seeing Lavender and Parvati light up when they knew that it was time for their class with Professor Trelawny.

In fact, the next couple of weeks practically breezed by as the weather became colder and uglier each day, almost as though it wished to mirror the unrest brewing in the wizarding world. Between hiding from Ron and ducking requests by Lavender to check on the potion _yet again_ to make sure it looked like it was coming out properly, finding time to study, talking to Lily so she didn't get bored or lonely, trying to look at Professor Snape while pretending that she was just sweeping her eyes across the Head Table at meals because the long stretches without his touch made her feel somewhat hollow whenever she had a moment to herself, and redoubling her efforts to do more research on figuring out a more permanent way for Lily to have her own body, it was immensely difficult for Hermione to feel like she had so little time where she felt truly whole, when all of her worries and stress melted away and she could feel that deep sense of calm and power inside of her.

Lily was the lucky one, after all, who got to do all of the naughtiest, enjoyable things with Severus until they were panting and exhausted and Lily slipped out of her, giving Hermione her physical form once more. While Hermione could feel the pleasure vicariously when Lily was in her physical form, she hated the experience of floating outside of a physical body and though there had been several times where the moon and the stars appeared to align properly and he had taken her fiercely while she had been in her own body while Lily slept, she found herself only wanting it more each time she came hard, screaming his name as he held her tightly against him and sparks of power arced from their bodies as though they were gathering lightning.

With so much going on in her classes, the various drama surrounding her friends and roommates, not fully having control over her own body and the upcoming Hogsmeade trip on her mind, Hermione had completely forgotten that her period, which had been regular as clockwork since the first time it had started, was more than three weeks late.


	44. Chapter 44

_;) You know what's coming…_

_Author's Note: I know I'm doing a bit of a time skip, but the story is going to have to pick up unless you want five hundred chapters of doom. Maybe you do want five hundred chapters of doom, but that would probably be MY doom, lol. RIP for my wrists and fingers at the very least. Let me know what you think about Slughorn's party from Hermione's point of view. I think it's quite the improvement, even if we don't get to see more Luna...yet... _

**Chapter 44: Results**

The "Ron Plan" was going off without a hitch. At least, that's what Hermione kept telling herself. The potion had come out perfectly, and Lavender decided that regardless of whether or not Gryffindor won the upcoming Quidditch match, she'd finally have a chance in the heat of excitement (or alternatively, the misery of defeat) to make her move. While Hermione didn't care much about Quidditch besides steadfastly rooting for her friends, she was concerned about Katie, whose run-in with a dangerous cursed necklace had landed her in St. Mungos for an indeterminate amount of time, and although she knew he was a good player (at least as far as she knew- she wasn't particularly knowledgeable about what made a good Quidditch player, after all) she was worried how Dean Thomas would fare, having only had a short while to get acclimated to his temporary spot on the team. It didn't help that Harry, who was supposed to be captain, was becoming increasingly fixated on Draco Malfoy to the point that Hermione had started to worry about Harry doing something stupid, well, more stupid than usual.

She needn't have worried, though. After some initial trepidation, Gryffindor had soundly trounced Slytherin. She _had_ regretted making a fool of herself in the changing room after the game, though, storming off like a tantruming toddler afterwards, but by the time she had come to her senses, it was too late to turn back. It was strange how lately, every little thing seemed to upset or provoke her, and she felt fatigued and achy all the time. It was like having the muggle flu, though she knew that magical folks were naturally immune to it. The only upside to her stormy moodiness was that she was able to keep the transformations from happening at inopportune times. The downside was that she almost always felt well and truly miserable.

When she finally had emerged from the girl's lavatory and made her way up to the Gryffindor common room, the victory party was in full swing. But it only took one glance at Lavender wrapped around Ron like some kind of giant squid impersonator, to make her want to scream, run crying from the room and then throw up in the nearest wastebasket. Which she promptly did, hearing the soft, whispery voice at her ear telling her that everything would be all right. And when Harry had caught up with her (How had he seen her? She thought she was so quick that she'd been completely unnoticed), she knew she had to come up with something, so she Vanished the puke-filled wastebasket and conjured some small yellow birds into being, just like she had done in Charms class. It reminded her of being a child and watching old animated films about princesses who talked to animals and were special and loved by their princes, who definitely did NOT go around snogging other girls and accusing said princesses of not even being a girl anyway.

She wondered idly why, if she loved someone else, then why did seeing Ron and Lavender happy together automatically make her want to run to the nearest toilet and lose her breakfast, lunch and dinner? Maybe it was just jealousy at having to endure their obvious freedom to express their feelings towards one another paraded under her nose, but part of her knew that just because she knew that she loved Severus, it didn't make her years of feelings for Ron disappear completely, just as Severus wouldn't forget about Lily just because he loved Hermione as well. Sometimes she felt like the four of them were mirror images of one another- that Lily and Ron were people who were loved but did not know or appreciate it and that she and Severus loved but had been unable to receive a clear answer before things had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

She couldn't tell this to Harry, though. He had so much he was already dealing with, and there was no way she was going to tell him that she had ongoing carnal knowledge of his most hated professor. Part of her despaired because she knew he would hate her forever if he ever found out. The other part despaired because she knew that he would probably come up with some conspiracy about Snape and use it as an argument to prove his undeniable evilness. Either way, the only thing she could really do was pretend that things were as fine as they could be, given the situation.

And then, that smug bastard had to come in while she was still trying to compose herself, trying to keep herself from falling to pieces while Harry stood awkwardly next to her and tried to make small talk. She was starting to think she could handle her bitter sadness and suddenly there was Ron, running in almost as though he was following Hermione on purpose, bringing Lavender along like some prize to show off to everyone he encountered. She had hated herself later for having sent the birds to attack Ron, but at the time, it had felt frighteningly satisfying. Besides, she reasoned, it's not like Ron didn't have someone to kiss him better now.

* * *

With the holidays fast approaching and homework and classes winding down, Hermione found herself with a little extra time to fill with her own studies. She was also avoiding the Gryffindor common room like the plague because Ron and Lavender were apparently testing out an alternative to the Bubble Charm, as they did not appear to need to come up for air more than once an hour. She was currently reading more in-depth about the Undetectable Extension Charm, which was eminently fascinating, and she had already tried out a simplified version of it on her own bookbag so she could take all her library books and research materials everywhere she went without any extra weight. It was also useful for saving food for when she would become inexplicably ravenous halfway through class. For the full unlimited item spell, it required at least four levels of spellwork that needed to be cast, which is why the book suggested purchasing something small and light that could be used in a range of situations without looking out of place; from formal to informal events, and even the muggle world. This way, she would only have to do the frighteningly complex spell once and it would appear appropriate, regardless of what she was doing. Hermione had an idea for the item she wished to use, but she'd have to get it when she went home during the holidays.

The second thing she had been researching was for Lily about Shades, which, according to all the texts she had consulted as well as asking Nearly Headless Nick and receiving a long and impassioned lecture on the subject, were considered remarkably different than ghosts. Ghosts manifested as the people they were when they died, including any injuries or clothing they had on at the time. But the Lily she knew wasn't the Lily Potter who had died for her son. Lily's consciousness seemed to have awakened through a completely different means that wasn't specifically mentioned in the books on the subject, but were hinted at in various ways. Shades were like an echo of a soul, with many of the memories and mannerisms, but considered separate from the original individual. They could be used for multiple things, especially guarding important artifacts in hard-to-reach areas due to their incorporeal nature. Some of the researchers had attempted to argue that a Shade should be given the same level of personhood as a regular flesh and blood individual, so expecting them to guard items of Power was barbaric unless said Shade was being fairly paid for his or her time.

While not considered a Forbidden subject, making a Shade was seen as somewhat odd and outdated in a society where one could conjure a simple Patronus and use it for messages or other ethereal purposes, so the books did not mention specifics, but it was true that the Shade of a witch or wizard was capable of using some degree of magic and retained most of the same mannerisms and memories of the original person without being the same exact person. Once the split was made, the new and the old individuals began making different memories, and could eventually even become very different people (like identical twins), at least as much of a "person" as a Shade could become.

Lily's complexity of consciousness and connection to a physical body as well as her own physical manifestation seemed to be completely unique, though, so Hermione made a couple leaps of logic to settle on the final understanding that Lily needed to be tethered to a real-life object in order to manifest properly. Without attaching to an object or person, Lily would dissipate and cease to exist. Most Shades were attached to inanimate objects, and connecting a Shade to a person's body wasn't even mentioned in the books. So if Lily was a Shade (which Hermione was almost certain Lily was, albeit a very special and complex version of a Shade), the best way for her to physically manifest would be to create an item that she could wear to tether her to this plane of reality and be physically present in the world- something that would be small enough to remove or give to someone for safekeeping while going incorporeal. Hermione was fairly certain that a piece of jewelry, either a necklace, ring or bracelet, would be ideal. But she still hadn't figured out how to connect Lily to the object.

There was also the problem of the upcoming Slug Club holiday party. Hermione had made the incredibly stupid decision to invite Cormac McLaggen to the party. Well, this wasn't exactly true. It had actually started out as a bit of a joke in class, but had gotten out of hand very quickly and then he'd overheard and decided that they were both going together no matter what she had said later. She had used it to needle Ron a bit, which _had_ been satisfying, but other than that, she was absolutely dreading the party. Unfortunately, Parvati and Lavender had taken to calling McLaggen her "mystery man," and Hermione knew that she couldn't correct them for fear of them learning her secret and making sure it would not be a secret any longer by the end of the school day.

When she had told Severus about this while curled up against his chest in his bedchambers one Sunday morning, he'd snarled and gone on at length about the various unpleasant things he would like to do to that blowhard of a boy. She'd made him promise (incredibly reluctantly) to make an appearance at the party and save her, even if he had to give her a detention, as he too had been invited by Slughorn but had been hoping to make a last minute excuse and avoid it.

They were finding it harder and harder to be discreet about their feelings towards one another. Hermione had almost transformed in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class when he had accidentally brushed against her arm while passing by and she had felt herself slipping out of her body. She had to silently cast a Nettle Hex on her thigh to interrupt the change, and had been sore for hours afterwards.

At some point, Severus had taken on library duty for Madame Pince, who was visiting Hogsmeade with Filch on a quiet Sunday. Most of the other students were out and about, and the library was nearly empty. He had cast some sort of silencing spell and spread his robes out over her like great midnight wings in a dark corner of the library near all of the muggles studies books, lifting her skirt and taking her from behind as he cupped one long-fingered hand across her mouth and she had moaned fiercely at his firm touch. They had even stolen away at some point into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after class and she'd laid back on the wide teacher's desk and met him thrust for thrust with her own writhing ministrations.

Of course, each time (except for the library, because Lily had fallen asleep earlier out of sheer boredom while waiting for Hermione to finish her Herbology essay), she'd transformed into Lily, but Hermione still cherished falling back into her body for the afterglow and she found that the slow touches and unhurried kisses were divine. Regular sex was also helpful for controlling triggers for the transformations, she told herself, and a sleeping Lily was a quiet Lily and a quiet Lily meant that Hermione could get her homework done in peace or without having someone constantly looking over her shoulder at her work and commenting on it. She had never quite realized exactly how annoying that actually was until someone else started to do it to _her_. Hermione swore that when she helped Harry with his homework the next time that she would not hover around and suggest things at him unless he requested her to do so.

On the night of the party, McLaggen had been unsurprisingly awful towards Hermione, trying to grab her breasts and commenting that they seemed "larger than usual." He also made a comment about how her dress was looking a bit small, and she might want to lay off on the snacks if she wanted to be able squeeze back out of it. In general, he was a boorish prat, and Hermione was grateful to be rid of him as she broke away from his manhandling clumsiness near the mistletoe. After a brief chat with Harry, she had ducked around the corner into the hallway, when she almost ran headfirst into a familiar set of black robes. He smiled darkly when she gasped in surprise. Just because he said he would go to the party, it didn't mean he didn't understand the benefits of being "fashionably late."

"Hello," she purred softly, once she recovered from her shock, breathing in the scent of him as she pressed against his robes, only pulling away to take his hand and lead him into a darkened empty classroom a short distance away. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it lightly, her cheeks pink at her bold behavior, especially when she was so sure he was going to reprimand her for touching him in such a familiar way when someone lurking about might have seen. However, at a second glance, she noticed that he was breathing uncharacteristically heavily and his pale cheeks were hot with color even in the gloom, and it inspired a pleasurable warmth that spread from her own cheeks to the deepest, most secret places of her body.

All of a sudden, he'd pushed her against the door so forcefully that for a moment, she was afraid that someone would come to see what the noise was about, but when a couple minutes passed in silence with his weight pressed pleasurably against her, he kissed her hungrily and she melted into a haze as she expected Lily to manifest. Not only was she surprised when she stayed herself, but it dawned upon her that earlier, Lily had seemed tired and bored at the party where she would not be allowed to interact with anyone, but Hermione had not noticed that she'd gone so far as to fall asleep.

Hermione could feel her clothing becoming more disheveled than it already was, but she didn't care, and when he kissed her neck as he pulled up the skirt of her dress, she couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and moan into his hair. She had wrapped her legs around his back and he had her pushed against the door, cupping her ass in both of his hands as he fucked her at a steady, maddeningly pleasurable pace. Her arms were around his neck and she found herself looking through the gloom into his eyes as she kissed him and felt their bodies joining and coming apart smoothly. Something about looking into his eyes and resting her own petite nose against the side of his hooked nose made her body respond even more enthusiastically, the tender gestures of love mixed with a hard, driving need. They peaked together, their bodies almost collapsing onto the cold, stone floor as she slid down the door, holding one another, the wetness of the sweat along her back making her descent not altogether unpleasant.

When they had caught their breaths, Hermione had run off to the closest bathroom to clean herself up, while he had returned to the party begrudgingly so that no one would accidentally see them together, but not before whispering that when she was ready, he wanted her to go to his office and wait for him there.

"The password is _PolyJuice_," he said softly, smirking ironically, "I have some things to talk with you about, and I am sure that you have many things you wish to discuss with me as well. I will do my best to get away from Slughorn's _dreadful_ party as soon as I possibly can."

And with a sound like a great billowing sail, he was gone.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45: The Greater of Two Evils**

Draco liked to think that there was a line he wouldn't cross. A choice that he would never make. Sure, he delighted in giving the Gryffindorks a hard time, what self-respecting pure-blooded Slytherin didn't? But there was a big leap from being known as a bully to becoming a cold blooded killer.

Still, he knew what he had to do. He had promised the Dark Lord one life in exchange for all the lives of the people he loved, (which included himself, obviously), but exactly what was he going to do with the Christmas holidays approaching steadily and the Dark Lord sure to demand a status update on his mission? The hardest part was going to be pulling it off without getting caught, because enduring torture at the hands of Voldemort was actually a less terrifying prospect than the thought of being Kissed by a dementor (this was probably especially due to the fact that Snape had been particularly detailed about the effects of the Dementor's Kiss in Defense Against the Dark Arts class that past Tuesday, and a number of the students had run to the bathrooms looking green after he'd mentioned some of the more common side effects of the Kiss in horrific detail). The subtle approach Draco had devised at the beginning of the year (was there such a thing as a subtle murder, though?) had seemed foolproof at the time. But things just kept going wrong. First off, the butterbeer plan had failed miserably. In fact, he hadn't heard a peep out of anyone, which made him think that the tainted butterbeer was probably stuffed somewhere inside a trunk in the Gryffindor dorms and was as good as useless.

The necklace plan had also been a complete disaster. He had told Rosmerta to give it to a Gryffindor student and cast the Imperius Curse on said student so the student would follow the instructions, which she had done dutifully. What he hadn't counted on was for the girl to fight with her friend and rip the thin material it was wrapped in and negate the three-layer cloaking charm woven into the paper. This was the only way something with that much black magic was going to get past the gates into the school and hopefully slipped to the intended recipient in the Great Hall, without making Draco look like he was directly involved. He was especially chagrined that he had purposefully gotten detention with McGonagall as an alibi and there was a reason she was known as the Tartan Terror by all who served detention with her. He still had blisters in places that he didn't realize could blister, even with liberal application of salve he'd nicked from the infirmary.

His mood had been dark for awhile, but now it was downright foul. Being a Death Eater had turned out to be more of a raw deal than he ever could have imagined, and he cursed his father for having omitted so much about the reality of it. All his life, his father had done nothing to describe the lingering pain, the dark emotions that emanated from the Mark, and the regularly recurring nightmares of falling into an icy blackness where he felt nothing but rage and pain. Something told him that all of these experiences were directly tied to the fact that the Mark connected him to Voldemort and just as he shared his power with his servants, so too were his servants bound to him. He wasn't an idiot, after all, he could deduce something as simple as that. But he would never admit this to anyone, besides maybe Rosmerta or Luna if he ever saw her again. Auntie Bella might be ok to talk to about it as long as he didn't mention anything about the Dark Lord- she had helped him when he had recovered from the initial Marking ceremony. It seemed that he only found himself ever able to confide in people who were either crazy or under his complete control, but perhaps it was safer that way. He'd even found himself able to break down and cry while Moaning Myrtle had comforted him gleefully a couple of times, and he reasoned that it would be impossible NOT to have become at least partially demented from having taken up residence in an S-tube for near half a century.

Sure, Draco liked being able to swagger around playing the Big Bad Death Eater and have Rosmerta however he wished (though for reasons he was not altogether sure he could even explain, ever since spending that evening with Luna, he had abstained from anything..._physical _with the Imperiused barmaid), but he felt different now. Something had changed. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could somehow pass the duty on in a way that would look like someone else disobeyed orders in the heat of the moment. Yes, then Voldemort could blame someone else and Draco could argue that he _would have done it_ if some other idiot shite-for-brains hadn't disobeyed the Dark Lord's orders. After all, it was common knowledge that a good number of Voldemort's remaining Death Eaters were somewhat bottom-of-the-barrel. Many of them appeared to be utterly insane or simply massive bodies with very little brain. Draco knew that he ought to be able to turn this to his advantage. But the first thing he needed to do was to fix the….object. That was the key to the entire puzzle, and he had been losing sleep thinking about what awaited him during the upcoming holiday break if he couldn't give the Dark Lord something better than a vague future date of completion.

And as for his ongoing feud with Snape, he had managed to keep fending off attempts by the surly professor to summon Draco to his office for "important discussions," and had made a point of having his Slytherin friends warn him if they saw black robes billowing anywhere in Draco's direction. He'd come into Defense Against the Dark Arts at the last possible moment and leave with the rush of other students at the end simply to avoid having to be around Snape more than absolutely possible. He'd even skipped class a couple times when his paranoia had grown particularly bad.

The last straw had been at Slughorn's ridiculous Christmas party. It was bad enough that Snape had humiliated Draco in front of everyone there, but Draco could also see that the sour-faced professor had appeared uncharacteristically at ease and relaxed, like a cat that had eaten a canary. This had set him over the edge when he had been pulled into an empty classroom by his fellow Death Eater. Snape was all too ready to dig inside of Draco's head for some weakness, to get the boy before him to crack and spill his guts. Luckily for Draco, his Auntie Bella had been kind enough to give him the tools he would need to block his mind from unwanted intrusions. Well, kind of, at least. He had been successful at keeping Snape out of his head, albeit without much of the grace that many other accomplished legilimens were able to achieve.

Over the summer break while teaching him legilimency, Bellatrix had spent at least an hour a day spinning off into an impassioned tirade about how Snape could not be trusted, a tired rant that he had heard a multitude of times, and one that many still believed was due to the fact that the Dark Lord favored Snape over Bellatrix, regardless of how insanely she pledged her undying devotion to the cause. Still, Draco had learned quite a lot about who not to trust in his first couple of months back at school, and even Crabbe and Goyle were still largely in the dark about his mission. Besides, he didn't need those louts. Working alone meant fewer questions and fewer tongues to wag if something went wrong.

In fact, as he stalked back down to the dungeons, having lost all patience for being around anyone else whatsoever, Draco found himself in an utterly mutinous mood. Snape had shown his true colors-he was _happy_! HAPPY!-seeing Draco twisting in the wind like this, knowing that he would have to return shortly to Malfoy Manor and face an unpleasant reception at the very _least_. The only twinge of fear that Draco had seen in those black eyes was after he was reminded of that damn Unbreakable Vow. The bastard only cared to save his own life. As far as he was concerned, Draco was just an inconvenient thorn in his side. And while he knew that his own life was probably safe until the end of the school year, that still left the lives of his mother, any other family members and friends at the mercy of the slit-eyed man who had Marked him. Plus, there were plenty of non-lethal ways to torture someone. If his summer in the unofficial Voldemort-for-Ruler-of-the-World Headquarters had taught him anything, it was the myriad of ways Voldemort had devised to torture a person to whatever end he wished.

But even with the world crashing down on his head, Draco was still putting his next big plan into motion, which he resolved would implicate Slughorn for being a pompous, cowardly windbag and refusing to include Draco in his special circle, a fact that he had been made crushingly aware of that night. A large order of various types of alcohol had been ordered by that slimy hedonistic walrus from The Three Broomsticks as gifts for the Christmas holiday. And with Rosmerta under his control, it would be easy enough to slip a poison-laced bottle in with the rest of the shipment due to be delivered on Friday. he was especially glad that Rosmerta had offered to make gift tags for each so he knew which one would be addressed to the intended recipient. Draco hoped that by the time he returned at the end of the winter break that the sad news would be posted in the Daily Prophet and that all he would have to do was perfect his best dark, scornful expression to wear to the inevitable funeral. Wouldn't Snape be mad as hell when he realized he hadn't even an inkling of the real plan? Draco wanted to take a photo of the exact moment that sarcastic sneer was wiped off that pinched, pale face and he finally acknowledged the younger Malfoy as his better. Maybe he could fish out his father's old camera and take a photo for posterity. The thought summoned the ghost of a smile to his lips, though it did not reach his stormy gray eyes.

Having been raised in a house where what the Ministry referred to as Dark objects and artifacts were regularly displayed, stored and used, Draco knew that evil was subjective, and often useful to some extent. In fact, the Ministry was actually well known for using so-called "Dark" artifacts and objects for their own purposes, and spells created by so-called "Dark" wizards and witches were often taught in schools and used regularly (_Alohomora_, for example). And granted, Voldemort may look creepy now, but he was also incredibly intelligent. This _was_ a war, after all, and it would be moronic to think that they were going to retaliate to the opposition with showers of kittens and eyelash kisses. The wizarding world had always remained a lot more _medieval_ than the muggle world, so many extreme methods of exacting control were being employed, but always in a very measured manner. This wasn't a war of battlefields and armies and mass graves and rivers of blood. This was a war of ideas made real, and people had a way of getting hurt when the proposed future didn't include them.

In the end, wizards like Voldemort who desired control over the world were more powerful than those who tried to push for freedom and liberty, not because of their innate abilities but their willingness to do things that others would hesitate or outright refuse to do. Also, the ideas of freedom and liberty were vague and slippery. People had spent centuries arguing about what they actually meant and even the muggles hypocritically spent hundreds of years saying that people were "free" while enslaving and oppressing the vast majority of people through economic and legal means. At least, that's what Voldemort had said in one of his meetings before segueing into his more customary talk about blood purity and how everything would be much better under his eternal control. Draco didn't really understand what he was talking about, but when the Dark Lord was talking, you _listened or else_.

Control was easy to understand. If there was ever a question of will and desire, Voldemort had them in spades, and this would be why Draco knew that barring some freak accident, he would win in the end. When even death was simply a mild setback, it was only a matter of a time before his goals would be realized.

Other evils were transitory- you either sided with or against them and eventually their reign would end. Just like Umbridge, whose unpleasantness was far easier to endure by aligning with her. Water always took the path of least resistance, it was natural. So too did Draco think that it was natural to do the easy thing, the most readily available thing to secure his own comfort and follow the most likely scenario for surviving (and maybe even thriving, he thought, remembering his harem idea). Because what the Dark Lord was aiming to accomplish was not simply another regime change rebranding the same package with different colors. No, Voldemort may have been many things, but he was also unfailingly glib about his plans. He wished to rule the world, make it in his own image of how things should be, and he was prepared to do whatever it took (to the fullest meaning of that phrase) to ensure that his reign would be eternal, that his grip on the planet would be endless, exactingly cruel only when he deemed it necessary and above all, controlled by his power.

Draco vowed that he would wipe that smug, happy look off of Snape's nasty, pinched face if it was the last thing he did. If the old bat wanted to declare war, then Draco was going to do his best to go on the offensive. He would find and destroy every lingering happiness, every little pleasure that his new nemesis took from his life. He needed to become just like his namesake, hard and powerful and wrathful. Because soon everyone would know his name, and if things went well, the mere mention of his name would bring terror and fear. Draco could feel it in his bones, even though he could not quite still his flesh as it shook with a fear of its own, betraying the growing voice within his heart that he was making the biggest mistake of his life.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46: The Call of the Mark

_Did you bring my gift for Sev too?_

The sudden silvery whisper at Hermione's ear sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded furiously in the gloom, her eyes alert for Filch or Mrs. Norris as she stole quietly through the darkened corridors and halls of the castle.

Luck was on her side, it seemed. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that Slughorn's party was full of decadently exotic food and drink, so even though not everyone was a fan of the pompous Potions professor, it was true that he was still well known for throwing a good party now and again. She imagined Filch drinking fire whiskey and trying to dance the two-step with his favorite cat and had to suppress a giggle. She passed a few huddled couples tucked away in dark alcoves on her journey, but they paid her no mind. They had more pressing matters to attend to than a solitary Gryffindor in a disheveled party dress.

She did have to take a bit of a detour at one point when she heard Hagrid's booming merry voice echoing down the hall. It appeared that he enjoyed singing to pass the time when he had to patrol the halls, which was nice for anyone not looking to get caught out after curfew, but probably not particularly useful when it came to actually catching students at after hours shenanigans. Hermione had to chastise herself as she could certainly count herself as one of that number.

When she finally arrived to the hallway that contained the door to Snape's offices, Hermione cast a few detection spells to make sure that she was truly alone before she rushed to the door and laid her palm against the rough wood, saying the password softly so as not to draw attention to herself.

She was closing the door as quietly as possible when one of her detection spells tripped and began squawking in her ear. With her heart in her throat, Hermione tried to slam the door shut as swiftly as possible, but suddenly, there was a boot in the crack of the door, wedging it open as a frighteningly familiar voice swore loudly, the weight of a body flinging itself against the wood of the door and as her stomach heaved with the sickening feeling of falling backwards towards the stone floor, her sight went bright with spots of pain as she was hit with a Total Body Bind.

"And what do we have here?" a voice snarled as Hermione fought to clear the afterimage of bright flashes of light in her eyes. A shadowy figure was bent over her but she could see his nasty smile as he came closer to her, the smell of a distinctive cologne on his clothing. Hermione was certain that she would have choked if she hadn't been frozen in place.

"Nothing to say for yourself? That's a first!" The voice was haughty and full of a withering entitlement and she knew who he was even as her sight began to recover further and she saw that familiar white-blond hair messily framing his face from having ambushed her.

She wanted to spit in his face, scream, do anything, but she was held fast in the grip of the curse. All she could do was push as much anger and rage into her gaze as possible, blinking furiously to hold back tears. In the face of her situation, it seemed ridiculous, but she resolved to keep fighting to the last, even if she had even one muscle in her body to fight with.

Draco smirked cruelly, "What, is the little Mudblood too paralyzed to do anything in the face of my superior spell work? Hah! There's a reason you and your kind don't belong here! Can't even fight back, can you, you weakling!"

Hermione felt a stab of terror run through her as she realized that his voice sounded almost hysterical as he squatted down over her, his wand still in his hand. And as her eyes cleared, she could see that his own eyes had gone red and slitted like a snake's as his mouth curled up into a crazy gash of a grin.

"Sneaking into professors' offices at night, naughty naughty," he said and laughed cruelly in a high, cold voice that was not Draco's,"One would think that old Snape would devise better defenses against intruders, but then again, you _are_ the clever muggleborn who hangs around Harry Potter, the one that refuses to pull your nose from a book, so I suppose that at some point you were able to absorb some of our great magical knowledge like the vile leech you are. But just because a bitch learns to beg scraps from the table doesn't mean we should treat it as an equal."

The grin widened, stretching snake-like across Draco's face in a horrific, impossible way and he hissed through sharp, white teeth, "I guess I'll just have to take care of this meddlesome little girl myself."

* * *

Severus Snape was attempting disentangle himself from a weeping, overly friendly and disgustingly sloshed Professor Trelawney when his Mark began to pulse in a way that turned his stomach to ice. A strong feeling of terror gripped him then, and it took him a few moments to regain control over his expression as he peeled the drunk Divination teacher off his arm in one swift motion with an almost feral sneer.

After saying a couple biting, sarcastic things to make his host and the remaining guests feel relieved at his rapid departure, he felt it safe enough to make his way quickly back to his office. He didn't know why he needed to get there only that it was imperative for him to do so, and his heart pounded uncharacteristically hard as his head became increasingly lightheaded with fear as he rushed by a number of students taking advantage of the darkened halls and reduced staffing without even a biting remark to spare.

All he knew for certain was that the only two people he had ever loved were in grave peril, and he was not about to let either of them down ever again if he could help it. He just _HAD _to get there in time. The alternative was unthinkable. He did not allow himself to think of anything further as he hurried towards his destination.

* * *

Draco felt strangely numb and detached, as though he was watching a play where someone else was moving his body and reciting alien lines that he had not thought to say. He remembered coming down to the dungeons in a foul mood. He remembered seeing _someone_ lurking around Snape's office, which made sense because Draco was also kind of lurking there, though he would never have admitted it, hoping to catch his hated Head of House unawares and _Stupefy_ him when his back was turned. It would suit the old bat to spend the night lying on the cold, hallway stone. Maybe he'd get a cold and be unable to teach for a week. That would be a bonus.

There had been a moment of indecision as he saw her do something to the door and get in, but he quickly recovered and sprinted over, jamming his foot into the door to keep it from closing. He had expected the pain, but what he had not expected was the depth of rage that boiled to the surface, seemingly in an instant. And when he realized that it was Hermione who was falling to the ground, it only incensed him even further. How dare she get into the offices that he had tried multiple times to break into on her first try? How dare that Mudblood, that friend of Potter attempt to gather information (for what other reason would she be there?) before him? Something snapped inside his head as he cast the Full Body Bind on her and he felt suddenly as though the rage had a mind of its own. He was only vaguely aware that he was speaking, but he couldn't tell what he was saying. Something about a Mudblood? It seemed like something he would say.

The Mark throbbed almost pleasurably on his forearm. That was new. It had never felt good before. He had a sense of falling from a great height and was suddenly back in his body again, looking down at the bushy-haired girl with a mixture of confusion and fear. What had just happened?

_It's your turn to prove yourself_ to me.

The serpentine hiss wrapped around his head like smoke and he felt his eyes go wide, rolling with fear. He knew only one other voice that matched the sound that hissed in his ears.

"M-my lord?" he choked, his voice breaking pathetically and he cursed himself for his cowardice.

_Not quite, boy, but close. I am a mere copy of a copy, a fragmented servant, but I give power to our master and I demand the blood sacrifice I am owed. You feel the power of your anger? The power I can give you is almost limitless. But you must feed me. Give me her blood, soak me in it. And then, only then will you feel more of the pleasures and power I am capable of giving you. _

Draco began to feel distinctly ill. He had not realized the Mark had a will of its own. But then again, he was stupid not to have asked, to have blindly taken it in a fit of desire to outshine his pathetic father.

"I-but-he said that-" he sputtered uselessly.

_The Dark Lord cares not for those that die in the crossfire, especially if they are not useful towards our ends. You said yourself that this Mudblood girl is a menace who shouldn't even be allowed to attend the school. What great loss would it be to our cause to end her? If you ask me, it would be a marked improvement. _

He pulled up his sleeve, and blanched at the rolling motion the skull's jaw made as it seemed to sync its movements with the voice in his head, holding his arm far away from him as though the snake tattoo writhing around upon his skin was a real viper about to strike at his throat.

_I am growing impatient, Draco. I require death to increase your strength. You didn't think that you became a powerful Death Eater from conviction and birthright alone, did you? It's always been about the blood. The blood of the sacrifice giving the power to the deserved ones. _

It occurred to Draco that he had heard similar sentiments before. From Aunt Bella when she was in one of her fugue states. It was almost as though another voice was coming from her, one with a fanatical fixation on torture and death.

It suddenly made a sick sort of sense. The Mark was not a sign of honor and loyalty. It was a collar and leash. A magical control that dispensed pain and pleasure to warp the Marked individual into a deadly, insane tool. Hell, he already knew that Voldemort could call him like a dog by touching the damn Mark.

The thing in his head was starting to scream at him and he felt it attempt to assert control again. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't lose himself again.

"_Legilimens_!" he shouted hoarsely, pointing his wand at his Mark with a shaking hand, and then all he knew was hot, agonizing pain.

* * *

_Hermione, I've got an idea, but I have no idea whether or not it will work. _

The most Hermione could do was blink her eyes in reply. Contrary to Draco's boast, his _Full Body Bind_ was lackluster at best, and Hermione knew that she would probably be able to break it in the next fifteen minutes at most. The only problem was that she wasn't sure she would be alive in five minutes, let alone fifteen.

_Hermione. I'm going to try this anyway, so please don't hate me. It might hurt a little, but we need to escape before it's too late. When I finish counting down from to ten, I want you to silently cast Stupefy as loud as you can, ok?_

Hermione blinked once to show that she understood. Meanwhile, Draco appeared to be talking to himself in an alarmingly insane fashion, and when he ripped back his sleeve and yelped at what he saw there, she felt incredibly stupid for doubting Harry's obsessive assertion that Draco was a Death Eater.

_Ten._

Heat and pressure built in her arm as though she was tied with cord that tightened and bit into her skin like fire, building in intensity as they struggled against them.

_Nine. Eight. _

It was like lifting a mountain; her arm ached as though it would snap in half, but she screwed her eyes shut, trying to cope even as her mind rebelled. Something from far away felt as though it was moving like a cumbersome tree limb. Hermione realized that it was her arm, the one with her wand still tightly grasped in it.

_Seven. Six. Five. Four. _

She opened her eyes again, the pain painting spots across her line of sight. She thought she would see the white flash of bone sticking through the skin of her arm, but it looked shockingly normal as it slowly raised and she realized that Lily was doing this, lending her strength, helping her to point the wand. She glanced at Draco, who was now writhing on the floor, his wand hand shaking as though he was attempting to wrest it from an invisible opponent.

_Three. Two. _

Her wand was almost level with his back as he rolled and screamed against the stone floor.

_One._

The wand was leveled and it was now or never. Screaming through her pain in her head, Hermione thought "_STUPIFY_" as hard as she could.

A sudden flash of light and suddenly, she could move, her limbs blessedly free from pain. Still recovering from the bind, she pulled herself up gingerly but nothing seemed broken, and she whispered a quiet thanks to Lily for her quick thinking. Draco still lay prone on the floor, his Dark Mark frozen and ugly across his skin and his hand curled into an almost claw-like shape. She kicked his wand out of his other hand and it clattered away against the far wall. Then she conjured thick, ropy cords and used her wand to bind his arms and legs, using Madame Bartleby's magical knot conjuration #43. She could not bear to touch him, and kept her distance from where he lay. She was not going to take any chances that he could recover and do her any further harm.

While she was doing all of these things, Hermione felt this cold, calm sense of serenity, a hyper-focus to accomplish what she needed to do to be safe. When she finished, she sank down onto her knees and hugged herself, suddenly shaking violently as she looked at Draco, still silent and _Stupefied_, on the floor. Her mind raced, and she realized that she had been very, very lucky. She wasn't sobbing, but tears ran down her cheeks and hit the stone floor with a thick, wet sound, and she let them fall, pushing herself against the far wall of the entrance way so that she was able to watch Draco for any signs of movement, pulling her legs up, hugging them to her as best she could in her tight party dress. Maybe McLaggen was right. It was a bit small now. She couldn't stop shaking, either. She felt like she was in shock. And it was so cold. Why was she so cold?

Moments later, the entrance door swung open and a strangled noise instinctively came from Hermione's throat as she saw a tall, imposing figure standing in the outline of the doorway, eerily backlit by the torches in the hall, before she realized who it was and her body shuddered with relief. Severus took a quick inventory of the scene before him and, seeing the _Stupefied_ form on the floor and as Hermione huddled against the wall, visibly shaking, he rushed over, throwing his arms around her and enveloping her in his scent. She almost couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. He was _here_. He drew back, pulling at the clasp of his cloak and draping it around her shoulders as she shook against him. She held onto the soft material of his cloak like a child to a security blanket.

"Thank god I got here in time," he said, the fear palpable in his voice, and he kissed her softly on her cheek, nuzzling his face against hers and running a hand over her hair in a soothing gesture as she quivered involuntarily with relief.

Something about his depth of concern made her break down even more, and she sobbed harshly into his shoulder as he rubbed her back and said nothing, which was exactly what she needed.

After many long minutes, Hermione felt another stab of fear when Draco groaned from the floor, and Severus promptly drew his own wand in one smooth motion and _re-Stupefied_ the boy without a word. In fact, he did it twice more until Hermione was calm enough to speak again and she explained what had happened as best she could.

"I-I was trying tuh-to be careful and I messed everything up. If it wasn't for Lily, I would have..." she trailed off, her lip quivering.

"Nonsense," he said darkly, sparing an angry look at Draco's frozen body, "This is not your fault. I should have been here to protect you. As his Head of House, I am responsible for him. I could not have lived with myself if something...worse...had happened. Do you think you will be alright if you wait in my library? You can take my cloak and wait on the reading couch until I arrive. I have some business with this..._student_...to take care of first."

His eyes narrowed as he looked back over at Draco again, saying "student" as though it were a word that denoted the most foul sort of creature, and Hermione was incredibly relieved that he was not looking at her like that. She squeezed his hand and looked up at him with grateful eyes.

"You know, you may not always be the most tactful of people, but you know exactly what to do to make me feel better," she said slowly, sniffing a little as she inhaled deeply and began breathing more calmly. She didn't want to let go of him- something about his body, long and lean as it was, made her feel safe, maybe it was the power that thrummed in his veins- she could feel it just from touching him, like an underground river of light. And as he stared into her eyes with profound concern reflected in the depths of the darkness that circled his pupils, she knew at once that he felt similarly about her.

Reluctantly, she stood up and slowly unwound her fingers from his.

"You know where to find me," she said, trying to sound light and carefree, but there was still an undertone of fear in her voice as she hung reluctantly in the entrance to the hallway.

"I look forward to doing exactly that," he said softly, and the sound of his voice caressed her from across the room.

The effect was intoxicating and she had to will herself not to run back to him and press herself against his body. She softly padded off, having slipped off her awkward, high heeled shoes, and wrapped herself more fully in his midnight black cloak on the reading couch in the library, feeling a sudden relapse of tears coming on when a book she'd been researching before floated lazily over and gently landed on her lap. Apparently the library had decided she needed the book, and her voice broke as she thanked it for its thoughtfulness. The light in the room was cozy and she almost felt like she could relax as her warmth returned to her. Still, she could not bear to open it and focused instead on the feeling of the soft leather cover of the book on her lap, stroking it like a cat as she waited for Severus to return.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47: Bound and Determined**

Severus Snape was highly skilled at keeping his face neutral and unreadable after years of working in close proximity to Voldemort. But at the moment, he felt rage burning him up from inside under his seemingly calm exterior. For the first time in years, he itched to cast an Unforgivable. Using every ounce of strength in his being, he forced himself to firmly tamp down the desire to practice wand motions and words so familiar that they were like dark nursery rhymes as he rigidly composed himself into a semblance of his normally stoically judgmental demeanor. He set to work conjuring a particularly uncomfortable wooden chair and seated Draco in it like a stiff-jointed doll, noting with some satisfaction the quality level of spell work that Hermione had put into the knots that bound the blond boy. He also grabbed Draco's wand and locked it in his ingredients cabinet for safekeeping. Next, he pulled a vial of dark black liquid from one of the upper shelves and unstoppered the bottle, smearing it against a length of white linen bandages and began wrapping them around the Mark on the boy's exposed forearm.

Once he had finished his preparations, he conjured his favorite black leather armchair and cast a strong Muffliato spell around the two of them. Then he put on his most frighteningly stern expression, holding his wand at the ready, and cast the counter-curse.

Draco sputtered to life as though he had been zapped, and Snape smiled darkly at the wince of pain on the boy's face.

"What the _shit_?!" Draco fumed, his hair falling messily around his face as he struggled against his bonds, "Let me go right now or my father-"

"Your _father_," Snape interrupted sharply, "Is locked up in Azkaban for being a fool and a disgraceful excuse for a Death Eater. Or do you wish to _join _him, hmmm?"

Draco's face went a ghastly white and he stopped struggling at once, hanging limply in his bonds.

"That's better," Snape's eyes were narrowed and cold, "What I would like to know is why you were skulking around my offices and threatening other students. _Surely_ you don't think that attempting to commit a murder in my offices would somehow bring you closer to your goal."

"That's-! I wasn't-! I just-!" Draco's terrified eyes glanced over at his arm, now wrapped with a cloth linen bandage, "What did you do to me?!"

"So _ungrateful_. I told Lucius that he was spoiling you, but he never listened, and now look what has come of it. I keep having to clean up your messes, Draco. And let me tell you a little secret. The Dark Lord despises messes unless he is the one making them out of disobedient little shits like yourself," Snape said testily, glaring menacingly.

Draco flinched and looked away. If Snape's look could have killed, it would have been more effective than the _Avada Kedavra_. Summoning up some self-righteous rage, the boy impertinently attempted to change the subject.

"I don't care what you think! That Mudblood bitch-"

"_Do not use those words in my presence_," Snape said fiercely, gritting his teeth in fury.

"Untie me first!" Draco said defiantly, "And besides, I can say what I want, when I want to! _You're not my father_!"

"And neither are _you, right_?" Snape said sarcastically and the boy looked stricken at the insinuation, "Draco, I know what you're going through-"

"NO YOU DON'T- YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" Draco screamed suddenly, the tendons in his neck straining against his skin.

Snape rolled his eyes and silently cast a _Quietus_ charm, and Draco silently yelled for a while longer before he gave up and hung his head in defeat.

"I know enough," he said, as the boy looked up with his eyes red rimmed and wet with angry tears, "I know, for example, that your Occlumency skills are third rate at best. I know that you almost ruined over a decade's worth of Hogwarts infiltration plans written and overseen by the Dark Lord _himself_. And I shan't overlook the fact that you almost killed off someone who, regardless of your feelings about her blood status, Dumbledore has decided is under his direct protection for as long as he lives. How _exactly_ were you going to keep yourself out of Azkaban or from receiving a special Kiss for all your troubles? Because from where I'm standing, all I can see is an angry _child_ with daddy issues and a massive sense of entitlement. Not exactly what the Dark Lord was hoping for, wouldn't you say?"

Draco made a very rude hand gesture in response and glared sullenly as Snape walked in quiet, calm circles around his captive.

"I'm not quite sure if you understand the sheer magnitude of what I am willing to do for you. Since you seem to be incapable of understanding nuance and subtlety, let me be incredibly blunt- I made an Unbreakable Vow to your mother to protect you and help you achieve the Dark Lord's purpose. I will _die_ if you do not achieve your goal. It is as simple as that. _I am not your enemy_. So let's look at the facts. You are no closer to your objective than you were at the beginning of the year. And what's worse, you allowed Granger to see your Mark. She would, no doubt, be running to dear old Dumbledore as we speak had I not _Obliviated_ her memory and told her that she would be receiving detention for sneaking around after hours looking for her lout of a boyfriend, though I, like you, cannot imagine how she managed to trick some poor sap into shacking up with her."

He forced himself to laugh derisively, though saying such things made him feel distinctly ill and was very glad that Hermione was unable to hear his ugly words.

Draco looked like he was about to speak and then silently pointed to his throat with his tied hands.

"You wish to have your voice back?" His dark eyes narrowed again as Draco nodded emphatically, "Very well, but if your volume even hints at increasing beyond a conversational tone, I shall have no problem shoving a pickled Flobberworm down your throat to shut you up."

And to illustrate that this was no idle threat, he gestured at a jar marked "Flobberworm" in his precise script on the top of a shelf opposite them, filled with a sickly yellow fluid, in which was suspended a large, fat specimen with sightless eyes. Draco nodded to show he understood, looking slightly green.

With a silent flick of his wrist, Snape removed the charm.

"I was just trying to tell you that I didn't want to kill her in the first place!" Draco protested hotly, "My...Mark...it _talked_ to me. Told me to do things. I tried to stop it. It hurt like hell and then something hit me. That's all that happened, I swear!"

"Do you even know the first thing about being a _Death Eater_, or is this your idea of playing _Wizards and Warlocks_?!" Snape snapped angrily, "Why do you suppose the Dark Lord came up with the name in the first place? One of the most powerful ways that the Mark gains power is from the blood of your enemies as it is spilled. The _Schadenspiritus_ is tied to your Mark to facilitate this process."

Draco gave him a blank, but vaguely frightened stare.

"Why do you think you become almost giddy with power when you give into your rage?" Snape said exasperatedly, "Why do you not sleep undisturbed unless you have taken energy from another living being through murder, torture, sex, or consumption of once living flesh? Why do so many of our fellows succumb to madness and obsession? These are not side effects of the Mark. They are the _point_ of it!"

An expression of understanding came over the bound boy as he stared down at his bandaged forearm.

"You- you put this stuff on my arm to stop the Shatter-Wotsit?" Draco's voice was incredulous.

"Yes. And it's a _Schadenspiritus_, a type of spirit that is related to the _Djinn_, but is said to have originated in Eastern Europe. The Dark Lord learned of their particular properties in his travels, that much he has told me. But that is beside the point. The point is, I need you to stop acting like an ass and accept my assistance. Because if you do not, you will soon join Bellatrix in madness and sadomasochistic extremism."

They stared at one another for a long moment, dark black eyes meeting gray eyes until Draco cast his own downward in shame.

Draco muttered something inaudibly.

"Speak up!" Snape was losing his patience, "I do not have the time to decipher mumbling."

"_Yes sir_," Draco said softly, "I said, what do you need me to do?"

"First of all, you need better Occlumency lessons than can be gleaned from a half-mad sadist in her rare moments of lucidity. You will need to learn how to close your mind to the Mark's influences so that you are not controlled by it. Use it as a tool for power. Do not be its tool. Secondly, you must give me hints about what I can do to help."

Snape held up his hand as Draco started to protest.

"I understand. It's a _secret mission_," Snape said, rolling his eyes at the boy's insistence on keeping to his ridiculous cloak-and-dagger shenanigans, "The fewer people who know, the better. But you will need an alibi sometimes. Or perhaps you would be so kind as to let me know around when to expect your plan to go into effect, if only so I can arrange for your intended target to be...properly isolated."

Draco smiled hesitantly.

"So you'll untie me, then?" he said hopefully.

"You must give me your word," Snape said dangerously, and suddenly his nose was inches away from Draco's own.

"Wha-whatever you say," Draco gulped nervously.

"You will give me your word that you _will_ come back to my offices the first day back from the break to learn sufficient Occlumency to fight the influence of your Mark. You will bandage the Mark with the salve and bandages I give you when you return to school and are not in the presence of the Dark Lord. You _will not_ target anyone besides the individual that you have been sent to eliminate. If you do not do these things, you will become intimately acquainted with the full extent of what I am capable of," Snape gestured with a flick of his wand and the flobberworm jar floated over and shook its contents back and forth, provoking the specimen into a creepy, bloated dance, "And do remember that I know where I can find you if you do not do as I ask. You can either let me help you, or you can fail the Dark Lord. And let me tell you, the Dark Lord does not tolerate _failure_ from his servants."

"Fine," Draco scoffed, wincing when he received a pointed glare so hard that he could almost feel it, "Yes! Ok! I give you my word on the honor of the Malfoy name, does that satisfy you?"

"I don't know why I even bother," Snape grumbled sarcastically, "Oh, _right_, because I don't fancy _dying_ just because you are too proud and stupid to ask for help. And despite what you might think, I know that you're more than just a rich little brat with a chip on your shoulder. You simply need to apply yourself properly. I will accept your word...for now."

He undid the bindings on Draco's wrists and ankles wordlessly, but his face was still screwed up in a scowling sneer, and his eyes were narrowed and cold as Draco stood up, rubbing his wrists.

"Hey! My wand! Where is it? I need it back!" Draco said plaintively, looking around as though he were searching for a lost limb.

"You will spend the evening without it. I will return it to you before you leave for the break tomorrow," Snape said darkly, "It would do you well to remember the feeling of complete and utter vulnerability. Perhaps it will make you think twice before letting your _anger _dictate your actions."

Draco scowled and looked as though he was about to say something but then thought better of it and said nothing as Snape opened the door to his office and motioned with a jerk of his head for the boy to leave.

"Don't make me regret not using an Unforgivable on you, Draco," Snape whispered almost inaudibly as Draco passed him, and he noticed with a wince that the professor's hands were clenched and shaking in barely contained rage.

Draco hesitated at the door and turned to look back up at the hooked nose and burning black eyes with a pleading expression.

"But what if-?" he said nervously.

"Get _**out**_."

It was not a request. Draco paused for a moment and then stalked off towards the Slytherin dorms, his hands in his pockets and a sour expression on his face, not realizing that he was holding his breath until he heard the office door slam violently behind him.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48: All Through the Night**

Hermione did not remember falling asleep. She simply remembered finally feeling warm again, the book's familiar leather texture as she stroked her fingers across it, when suddenly she felt a light touch on her forehead and a soft, familiar voice whispering her name into her ear. Her eyes snapped open and there were a few moments of stark, disoriented terror at the sight of a dark figure leaning over her. She choked down a scream when she realized that the sick sense of deja vu was just that, nothing more. The dark eyes that stared into her own were not red or slitted, and she told herself she wouldn't cry, not when this was their last night together until the holiday break was over. The light, deep breathing at her ear told her that Lily had also succumbed to exhaustion.

"Hello there, sexy man," she said loopily, smiling faintly, still half-asleep.

Severus shifted uncomfortably, looking away in an unconsciously adorable flustered sort of way that she never would have imagined he was capable of before the beginning of the school year and she saw the color rising in his cheeks. Her smile widened. She was going to miss _this_, when time meant nothing and it was just the two of them in their own corner of the world.

"I didn't want to wake you," he replied, smiling awkwardly, "But I wanted you to open your gift before you go tomorrow. After everything that has happened, I realize that our time together may be growing short. Regardless of what happens next, I want you to have this."

He handed her a package wrapped in plain brown paper tied with twine. It seemed somewhat shoddily wrapped with too much tape holding it together, but she didn't care. She was simply amazed that she was receiving an actual Christmas present from Severus Snape. He didn't seem like much of a gift person, but neither she (nor Lily) could help themselves, regardless of whether or not they received anything in return.

"I...er...we have something for you too," Hermione said, as she put the package down gently and rifled through her messenger bag, which she'd left in his library rather than risk her friends getting curious and going through it while she was at Slughorn's party.

She pulled out a small tissue wrapped box and handed it gently to him. It was small and long, and the green and silver designs on the tissue danced and curled silently on the material. It was very delicate charm work, but Hermione had been satisfied with it, only working on it after she'd practised on Harry's and Ginny's Christmas presents because she doubted if they would even notice. She was not yet sure if Ron deserved a present, considering his boorish behavior lately.

"You first," she said, looking up at him and placing his gift on the small table next to her, "Lily will give you her present in a little bit when she wakes up. She really exhausted herself saving our lives. She deserves some rest."

He gave a faint nod in agreement and turned over the package, carefully unwrapping the tissue, and she noticed with a thrill how graceful his slender fingers were as they worked at the task of unwrapping it without tearing the paper. He carefully folded the material gently without making any hard creases and opened the box.

"This…." he trailed off uncertainly.

"I made it for you," she said, pulling it from the box. It was a green, silver and black bracelet woven in the pattern of a reoccuring "S" shape.

"I used unicorn hair to weave it, and hand-dyed it to match the colors of your House. It confers health upon its wearer, protects against the majority of common poisons, illnesses, and I added another extra feature- it sends and receives simple messages too!"

She twisted a small black bead tied into the head of the bracelet near the clasp.

"You just wave your wand over this bead and say or silently cast '_Transcriptus_.' It will send a message of up to twenty characters to its sister bead," she said, holding up an identical bead tied around a cord at her neck.

"It works best when it's worn against your skin," she explained, "I added a mild Heating Charm so you will feel when a message is ready to read. You simply have to breathe on the bead to display the words."

"This is very...elegantly done," Severus replied softly, his expression markedly impressed.

"Oh! You have to see the best part!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, and she pulled her wand from her pocket, conjuring a small hand mirror and setting it on the small table next to the couch.

She gently grasped his right hand and he let her pull it over, rolling the sleeve back gently with her free hand. She fastened the bracelet around his wrist, using her wand to tie the ends with Madame Bartleby's magical knot conjuration #13, which prohibited anyone besides the wearer to untie it.

"What you said before, about our time together growing shorter..." She paused, looking up at him seriously, "It occurred to me as well. That is why I want to be able to communicate, even if we are apart."

She picked up the mirror and held it up to his wrist. The bracelet did not appear in the reflection. She Vanished the mirror and placed her wand in the zip flap of her messenger bag. Then she turned back to him, feeling suddenly shy.

"I made it Unplottable," she explained, tracing her finger around his wrist softly, feeling that slight electric buzz she always got when their skin met, "If you don't know it's there, you can't see it or feel it. It can't be seen in reflections or photographs and detection spells will not reveal it. I didn't want you to worry about it being seen. I know it's a bit selfish of me, but I wanted to give you something to keep with you that will protect you and remind you of me when I am away. But you don't have-"

"Is Lily still asleep?" He interrupted suddenly.

"Well yes, but-"

"That's all I needed to know."

He was on her suddenly, pressing his body and then his lips urgently against hers and she felt her body curve against him instinctively as though she was meant to be there. She breathed in his familiar scent, filling her with a sense of safety, even as the underlying electric crackle of their power arced merrily where skin met skin, sending shivers through her body as a heated desire rose within her. Their fingers entwined and she let him push her back further onto the soft velvet couch behind her.

Her pulse beat furiously against his as though each was saying _love me love me love me _over and over again. When he drew back and brought his cheek against hers, she shivered as she felt heat on her ear as he drew uneven, heavy breaths.

"You _are_ _most definitely_ the most amazing witch of your year," he said breathlessly, holding her firmly in his arms, "And I cannot help but love you even more every time you do something exceedingly clever."

Their cheeks burned hotly against one another as his words sunk in, and she turned and nuzzled his nose with her own.

"Don't worry," she whispered, "I won't tell anyone that's what you really think."

"Not unless you want everyone to think you've gone completely insane," he chuckled darkly.

"Some would say I'm insane anyway for having spent so much time around one of my professors without my clothing," she replied affectionately, kissing him softly.

"Mmm, yes," he said thoughtfully, "Then let us be grateful that neither of us are completely in our right minds, then, at least as far as that is concerned. Of course, I must confess that our official school relationship always makes me slightly uncomfortable, even though in some ways it seems like it should be insignificant, considering the precarious position the Wizarding world as a whole seems to be in at the moment."

Hermione frowned slightly, and drew back to study his face intently. Finally, she spoke.

"That's the thing, though, isn't it? We don't know how this all ends. We might lose. Our friends might die. One or both of us might die. Hogwarts might be obliterated tomorrow. We have no idea. I want to finish my schooling. I want to graduate. I want to travel and make a difference and have a family of my own one day. But unless by some miracle, Voldemort drops dead tomorrow, I keep getting the feeling that next year, I'm not going to be riding the Hogwarts Express."

He looked at her with concern in his eyes.

"I, too, have been dreading something that looms, insubstantial and nebulous on the horizon," he said sorrowfully, "I have been tasked to carry out a vile deed, under Dumbledore's orders. Suffice to say that I can't tell you the details, but I am certain you will hate me once it comes to pass."

"There is nothing you could do to make me feel hatred towards you," she said reassuringly, tracing his jaw with a finger.

"Do not make promises that you are not certain you will keep," he replied bitterly, and his eyes seemed to harden.

"Don't say things like that, then!" she said fiercely, "I am the only one who can decide how I feel. I fell in love with you, no matter how stupid or crazy it sounds to anyone else, and I will defend that decision until I die. Regardless of what happens, what is still to come, what horrible things you or I will do, and yes, don't look at me like that, I am well aware that I may have to harm or even kill someone when this war intensifies and it scares the hell out of me!"

Hermione felt herself growing almost hysterical, but she couldn't stop herself as she grabbed Severus by the front of his coat and pulled him down to her eye level.

"Whatever happens," she continued, and her voice wavered with intensity, "I will never regret this. I will _never_ hate you. And if we are separated, I will find you again or be prepared to die trying. You are not used to people protecting you, caring about you, but I do. So does Lily. We both will do whatever it takes to see you through this, and if I have to use every shred of knowledge I can pull from parchment, I will do so. I want to keep all of my friends and family safe too, but you are also in here, in my heart, and there is no way I'm leaving you behind, regardless of what you do for Dumbledore!"

She pointed at her chest to accentuate her point, tears edging in around the corners of her eyes. He merely studied her silently with a slightly shocked expression on his face.

"You might think I'm being embarrassing and sentimental-well I don't care!" Hermione felt the words pouring from her heart and she couldn't stop them, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again if I have to. I'll scream it off the top of the Astronomy Tower if that's what it takes to make you believe me! I LOVE YOU, SEVERUS! I LOVE YOU, SEVERUS! I LOVE YOU, SEVERUS! I LO-"

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Severus firmly clamped his hand over her mouth, his face so red with embarrassment that Hermione felt a little twist of glee in her belly.

"I don't doubt your feelings, Hermione," he said finally, "Sometimes, my knowledge that they exist actually are one of the only things that keep me going. But I do not want you to be shocked and think the worst of me."

She kissed the inside of his palm impishly and he pulled his hand away with a raised eyebrow. Before he could respond, she threw her arms around him, taking the opportunity to hug him tightly.

"You will get through this. I will too. We will find a way for Lily too. I have to believe it, or I may go mad."

He stroked her head let her hold him for a long time, his breath slowing and evening out under the pressure of her touch.

"Now," he said softly, as he slipped gently from her grasp, "Close your eyes and wait here."

"What is it?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.

"That is for me to know" he replied mysteriously, and even with her eyes closed, Hermione could hear the smile on his voice, "And for you to soon find out."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49: Gifts**

"You may open your eyes now."

Hermione was not certain what to expect, but she decided to do as he asked. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw what he had in his hands.

"Is this…?" she trailed off, looking up at Severus with an intrigued expression.

"I thought you'd like to see it," he said quietly and his expression softened as he saw her body tense with excitement as she nodded emphatically.

Her fingers were moving slightly as though she were already reaching out to grasp it, and he handed it over to her. He was attempting to stand there silently, but she could tell by the agitated way that he kept pacing slightly that he wanted to say something about it. She looked at him with an indulgent smile and gestured for him to go ahead. It was amazing how quickly he transformed his demeanor from imposing and quiet to enthusiastically eager, and she stifled a giggle at how very un-Snape-like he looked when he was at ease.

"As you know, I've been working in my spare time to analyze the contents of the butterbeer bottle you so stealthily provided for me," he said proudly, his eyes flashing brightly as he gestured in the air, pulling his wand to conjure smokey images of a bottle and ingredients to accompany his explanation as he spoke, "It was quite the challenge. From a mere ten drops of remaining liquid, I finally separated each ingredient of the potion, labeled each one, its derivative material, and backwards engineered the potion-making process. It was rather ingenious, if I do say so myself."

"Am I to believe that the famously sour Professor Snape is _preening_?" Hermione said with an impish grin.

He looked back at her intensely, sneering slightly out of habit, "Is it impossible for you to believe that I take pride in my work, especially work as complex as this?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Hermione protested, worried that he had misunderstood, "But you must admit that you get into this intense frame of mind when you talk about anything potions related. I know that your first choice was not to teach Potions, but you _are_ brilliant at the subject- impressively so! I guess I'm just wondering why you would campaign so strongly each year to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts instead?"

Severus closed his eyes and seemed to be thinking as Hermione flipped through the thin, leather bound notebook that he had given her, his precise and controlled penmanship filling each page next to clearly marked diagrams and surprisingly lifelike drawings. She loved how the scent of the parchment and ink mingled together. But what was even more remarkable was the fact that it also smelled like him. That deep, earthy, spice-laden scent that had enchanted her the first moment she had encountered it. Considering all that they had shared together, Hermione knew that she wasn't unimportant to Severus, but the level of detail and effort he had obviously put into this book spoke volumes more of how important she was than any declarations of love or devotion, though they were nice too, obviously.

Like it or not, Hermione knew that his true intentions were defined more by his actions than his words, especially when he was uncomfortable and didn't want anyone to know. Severus Snape was a study in contradictions, but under all the physical scars and years of abuse and neglect, he was still surprisingly kindhearted and eager to please in his own way. The world had seemingly tried to beat the happiness and hope from him with each passing year, yet somehow, his heart had not crumbled to dust.

She thought of her parents, of her friends. What sort of person would she have been without that? If Harry and Ron had not saved her from the troll and they still weren't anything more than classmates? How would she react to a life without the warm glow of recognition from teachers, Dumbledore's continued support, or the reassuring warmth of Crookshanks against her feet on cold nights? She couldn't begin to imagine how someone who grew up wearing literal rags could still function, how someone without the love of parents or peers could survive.

She was so lost in her thoughts that a sudden light tap on her head made her jump. Severus had apparently rolled up a small piece of parchment and lightly smacked the top of her head with it.

"Er...I tried getting your attention the normal way," he explained dryly, when she winced a little instinctively, "But you were a million miles away. A particularly engrossing thought, perhaps? Something you wish to share?"

"I'm not mad," she said, blushing at having been caught up in her thoughts like that, "It didn't hurt or anything. If you must know, I was thinking about you...er...and stuff. But it was rude of me to space out like that, I'm sorry."

"I do not mind repeating myself for you," he said quietly, sitting next to her and placing a hand on her knee awkwardly, "I just need to know that you are listening this time."

"Please. Lecture away!" she said lightly, placing her hand on his and drawing up quickly before he had a chance to react; kissing him on the cheek. Almost instantly, the lines around his eyes relaxed a little at her touch.

"You ask me why I did not wish to continue teaching Potions, despite my aptitude in the subject? Well, exploding cauldrons aside, there are several reasons. Teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class is important to me because I have lived it," he started, his eyes growing distant as he remembered, "I have never been much of a teacher, and I certainly have never had much patience, so it does not take a genius to realize that I would probably do far better in a different line of work. However, Dumbledore needs me here, and if I am here, especially as a Head of House, I have a perfect excuse not to be called in regularly by the Dark Lord or, in the interim years before his return, the other Death Eaters with more power and status who wished to use or manipulate me as a 'connection.' For even before the Dark Lord returned, there were still many prominent families who were happy to play their part in ensuring an ongoing level of hierarchy where it suited them."

"Like the Malfoys," Hermione said softly, shuddering.

"Yes, as well as others," Severus said slowly, and then wrapped his other arm around her, his side resting against her comfortably, "The point is, Dumbledore pushed Potions on me because the Defense position is jinxed and has been ever since the Dark Lord was refused an appointment to teach that very class."

Hermione gasped. It had been a bit of a joke amongst the students ever since she started going to Hogwarts, but to hear it confirmed as a truth was still a bit of a shock.

"You're not going to _die_ at the end of the year, are you?!" she said, horrified.

"Hermione, please, I would not be so melodramatic as to do that," Severus chuckled darkly, "Remember, Lupin did not last more than one year in the job, but he is still perfectly alive. As did Moody, though Dumbledore told me that it took him awhile to get used to willingly going into confined spaces again without having a panic attack."

"Then why-?" Hermione started, but he gestured with his hand to stop her.

"The reason," he said evenly, "Is because Dumbledore anticipates that something is going to happen before the end of this year that will change everything. I will be needed in a different capacity by the next school year, but even Dumbledore refuses to tell me exactly what it will be. Suffice to say, I have one year to help teach each of my students the best way to protect themselves against Death Eaters and Dark magic, because who better to teach you than someone who counted himself among their ranks, and still plays a part at the Dark Lord's side? I am perfectly suited to get students acquainted with the common tactics of those who wish to do them harm, and, if needed, to make them hate me so much that they unite themselves in solidarity at proving me wrong and pushing themselves to do better spellwork that might even save their lives one day."

"Wait….so you're telling me that your insufferable sourpuss attitude is simply a tool?" Hermione said suspiciously.

"Are you telling me that you are only just now realizing how useful a tool it is?" he replied wryly, "An angry opponent makes mistakes, which makes it easy to dodge their attacks. As a professor, if I am the bad guy, then the students who find themselves at odds against one another feel better about forging their own alliances if I am a common enemy. The troublemakers will either stop making trouble or become skilled enough at avoiding being caught that they will have at least learned a valuable skill in any case."

"But what about you?" she said plaintively.

"What _about _me?" he grumbled, his expression darkening, "There are few people who can stand my company, let alone seek it out. There are even fewer who could be said to love me. I do not look to make friends with my students simply because they are there or endeavor to be well-liked by children in general, unlike _a professor with a penchant for acquiring illegal and dangerous beasts that_ I could name. I have never been a particularly lovable person, even as a child, so I do not expect or generally desire to be _liked_ by others. You probably understand this, at least to some extent, though, don't you Hermione? Each year you have been here, you have experienced firsthand the fickleness of those who pretend to love you when you're doing what they want you to do, and then delight in throwing you to the wolves the second it is convenient to do so. I have had the distinct _privilege_ of having spent the greater part of my life avoiding being torn apart by said wolves, so while I may have developed the sort of skills that one must to survive, it does not generally include having the time to learn much about making nice and attending tea parties in pretty purple bonnets."

Hermione had a sudden mental image of Severus sitting in a garden, sipping tea and wearing a purple bonnet with a bunch of old ladies with silver hair, and she couldn't help but giggle. His glare intensified.

"Apparently being torn apart by wolves is humorous? I had absolutely no idea! Please _do_ explain," he said sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes.

"Honestly? I was just thinking that purple not really your color," she said, smirking a little.

"What are you-?"

"You were the one bringing up pretty purple bonnets, not me. I guess I know what to get you for your birthday, then," she said and burst out laughing, the mental image of the tall, sneering professor trying to fit in at a garden tea party still stuck in her head. The look on his face made seemed to merge with the mental image and only worsened the effect it had on her.

For a moment, he looked at her as though she'd gone completely insane as she laughed so hard she thought her sides would burst, tears slowly leaking down her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath. And then, as she watched him through bushy strands of hair that kept falling into her face as she shook with laughter, she saw his mouth curve upward into a bemused smirk, and before long, the two of them were collapsed in a shuddering, red-faced heap, all thoughts of the looming darkness on the horizon temporarily forgotten as they shook together and filled the room with pure, uncomplicated laughter.


	50. Chapter 50

_Author's Note: So, here we are. __**Chapter 50**__. I've been trying to maintain a bit of radio silence so you're not stuck reading my silly ramblings on a regular basis, but I wanted to talk about a couple things. First off, my hand/writing situation: I've been resting my hands nightly but still find myself suffering a bit of stiffness/aches and pains, so writing has been touch-and-go, but I just keep getting so many damn ideas and ways that I want to weave the narrative that I find myself writing anyway (I know, I'm terrible). _

_I wanted to go into more detail about the Dark Mark, and a possible reason for how it can affect behavior. It is my belief that the magic in the Mark itself is somewhat vampiric, which is why Voldemort is so interested in it- what better way to get power than to force your trusted followers to collect power for you with the promise that it will make them stronger also? _

_Also, I wanted to welcome some of the new commenters/readers that I've been seeing lately! Your feedback really inspires me. Also, to those who have stuck with my work since Chapter 1, I wanted to set aside a big ol' basket of thanks as well. I try to respond to questions if you have them and clear up confusion as well, so please keep letting me know what you think and if you have any predictions or ideas about where I'm going with this story or the elements that I have introduced, I like hearing those too….ehehehe…._

;) Well, you know what _that_ means...

**Chapter 50: Luck of the Potion**

Severus Snape did not consider himself the kind of person who laughed easily, the way that the well-cared for and the well-loved seemed to do almost effortlessly. Part of him thought that it was because a person such as himself, who had done so many evil things simply did not deserve to engage in such a behavior out of some warped idea of penance, but another part simply acknowledged resignedly that his life in general did not inspire much in the way of joviality. It was as though someone had written his life as a study of how much absolute misery one person could encounter in a lifetime, taking a cruel joy in his suffering. For while he thought that it was a good thing that he was not a fictional character, that it was preferable to have agency and choices in how he lived his life, a part of him wished that he could simply blame his misfortune on something outside of his control, some outside agent whom he could blame for every wrong turn he had made in his past.

In these moments with Hermione, though, he found himself feeling as though he had slipped into someone else's life, a life where he could do normal things, like smile or laugh, without expecting someone to interpret them as weaknesses rife for exploitation. Where he could say embarrassingly honest things that would normally provoke a sarcastic comment or observation from him to shut the other person down and minimize any potential damage to himself when he was inevitably betrayed.

He had never considered himself a particularly emotional man, but there were certain, rare memories that made his heart skip and retread the same places over and over until they created deep furrows. Lily had laid the first grooves deeply, and the wound she had left when they had fallen out in their fifth year had been agonizing. But the past few months...whenever he allowed himself to really think about it, they had been the absolute happiest days of his life. And regardless of the dark days that were sure to come, he could not bear to let go of each golden moment that he was able to experience in the warmth and heat of devoted affection.

It was frightening how easy it was to forget his missions for his respective masters, his masks and personas in the arms of someone who loved him with an utterly open heart. Both Hermione and Lily loved and lived with open, honest hearts that made him feel awkward and broken in comparison. But they did not begrudge him for it, and as the lust and limerence had developed into a deeper feeling that thrummed deep inside his chest like an involuntary mantra, he became more and more certain that at some point he would wake up and all of this would be a dream, a sign that he was losing his mind. But madness was almost preferable to the thought of losing everything he had gained.

He had not yet finished his presentation on the butterbeer potion findings, but neither of them seemed worried about this fact. They had this time, golden and warm, and they reveled in wonder in the moments that had led them there. As they lay catching their breaths from their bout of hysterics, it had been all too easy to stroke her cheek gently. All too easy to bring her eager lips to his. All too easy to kiss her deeply again and again as she explored his body with her hands, bringing him down from his thoughts and solidly into the reality of the pleasure spreading through him as she brought his senses to life and he grew achingly full of need.

He adored the small noises she made as he touched her body in soft, sensitive places, her cute, embarrassed expression when she made them and the moment the heat of desire filled her eyes, and she was blushing with a need of her own.

Of course, there was no way he would ever tell anyone what was going on in his head as they writhed together, giving and receiving pleasure in kind. She just seemed to know that if she kissed his neck just so, that he would shiver and pant in encouragement. He knew that the secret place along the top of her spine where her neck met her back was simply aching to be licked in a soft but frantic way, and he marveled in the way she moaned and thrashed at the feeling of her nerves sounding off in a chorus of sensation.

As he slid his hands down the back of her dress and then worked at the zipper at the back of it, she began undoing the buttons at the front of his coat as they inhaled the crackling heat of power that flowed from both of their bodies, mixing in the air. Wordlessly, he increased the size of the couch so that they could both move more easily with a flick of his wand, setting it down on the side table and helping her slip out of her clothing. The clasp on her bra was not nearly as troublesome as had been rumored and he wondered if that was simply some kind of myth that girls perpetuated to intimidate would-be suitors. He did note with some concern that her breasts appeared to be straining somewhat uncomfortably against the soft cups of the device. He decided he would help her resize it later so that it would be less cumbersome, though any excuse to run his hands over the soft but supple skin of her breasts was welcomed. She let him slip out of his pants and shorts, the contrast of the paleness of his skin and the darkness of the fabric was stark and jarring, making him feel increasingly awkward with his nudity, even in his aroused state. But he had no more time to think about it as she pulled him against her and he drew in the scent of her hair, feeling the tortuous ache of pleasure as she moved lower against the front of him and began kissing and licking against his belly. She teased him a bit, licking the side of his hips on both sides, running one hand along his shaft slightly as he bucked slightly against the motion. When she kissed the head of his cock, he couldn't stop himself from moaning loudly and his cheeks reddened even though he knew that no one else would hear but her. She gave him the sort of grin that said _I want to make you do that again_ and he realized that for all his embarrassment, he shared that desire tenfold.

After a few more kisses and a few more moans and a few more wicked grins, she began to set to work at licking the tip of his cock, running a hand against the hard expanse of his erection and closing her palm and fingers around it in a soft but pleasurable manner. When she stuck out her tongue and gently spread a hot, wet lick against the underside of his shaft as she held her other hand against the base of it, he had to restrain himself from grabbing her and taking her immediately. He ran his fingers over her hair, marveling in the curls and snarls of auburn and chestnut strands that, once placed together in a singular mass, made it seem almost oceanic in size. His legs quivered as he tried to maintain standing upright as her actions drove his senses wild with pleasure and need.

When he least expected it, he felt her warm, wet mouth completely envelop the tip of his cock, and he noticed from a place that seemed almost outside of himself that it was as though a slew of embarrassing noises were coming steadily from his mouth without his bidding, as though they were being pulled directly from the depths of his brain as she sent waves of pleasure through each nerve in his body. He could find himself letting go of his habit of controlling himself and lost himself in the sensations she pulled from him, slowly and achingly beautiful in their simplicity.

Her work, as always, was immaculate, and she read his reactions as though they were instructions of what to do next. When he moved instinctively against her as her ministrations struck a chord, she continued and kept it building in intensity. When he seemed to still, she changed her movements until he was moving against her again. He loved what she was doing, but he didn't want it to end like this, not with only a vicarious feeling of accomplishment for her, as he was certain that once he reached his limit, he was sure to collapse uselessly to the floor. The crackling power rising from their bodies ran in rivulets over their skin like heat waves in summertime, filling their senses with a wavering sweetness.

With a gentle motion, he slid down into a kneeling position, wresting free gently from her mouth and feeling a distinct sense of emptiness without the pressure of her lips against his shaft. He looked at her, gratitude shining brightly in his eyes and he kissed her gently once and then with more urgency, pressing her backwards against him, chest to chest, settling his weight onto her as she breathed more quickly under him in anticipation. Her eyes were partially closed and she brought up a hand to cradle against his jaw gently, even as his hair fell forward in his face as he looked down back at her.

"_Please_, Severus," she said huskily, and he could not deny her.

She was so wet, so eager, so ready and his heart raced at the heat that wrapped around his cock. He held her so tightly to him as they moved together, feeling himself slip into a steady rhythm with her. Fucking her was so simple and it was impossible to remember exactly what it was like before he had experienced this- the heat, the light, the unbearably amazing sensation of his whole body singing in ecstatic harmony as he drove his cock deeper and deeper into her until he bottomed out and she mewled at the sudden, complete sensation of fullness.

He felt a jolt of self-consciousness when she reached up and slid her hands up and behind his neck, threading her fingers through the dark, somewhat greasy hair that lay at the nape of his neck. He was embarrassed thinking that she could feel it, that she would be disgusted at the sensation, but she made no move to take her hands away, nor did she make even a slight shudder of revulsion. Something about her complete willingness to touch his body, even the parts that he knew he could take better care of, touched him more than kisses or caresses. Every time he saw the white faded scars where pink and angry red used to be, he was reminded of her power, of her kindness. And when he was at his worst, somehow she accepted him regardless.

"Can-can I?" she said breathlessly, her eyes far away and full of adoration, moving her legs up to hold him around his lower back.

"Oh, yes," he moaned, thrusting deeper still as he cupped a hand under her arse and steadied himself over her with the other.

When he felt her tensing in waves around his shaft, he kept up the even, deliberate motions that she seemed to enjoy most and she cried out and rocked against him as orgasm hit her, intensifying his own pleasure. He held himself back, though, continuing the motion until he felt something catch inside of her just as she seemed to relax again in afterglow, pulling her into a similar frantic feeling of climax. She shuddered and he felt it run through him as well, drawing out his orgasm and he poured his cum deeply into her, feeling her legs tense around him as he held her arse angled upward, fully buried as deeply possible within her.

Moments later, they both lay facing one another, spent and drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as they recovered from their efforts. He gazed at her naked body through the haze of his sated lust, and noticed that she seemed...different...somehow. Her body seemed fuller, as though she'd had a growth spurt that left her softer and more womanly than girlish. He wasn't exactly an expert on anatomy, but it made sense. She was just barely an adult. there were so many changes to come with age, and he had to admit, he did enjoy the view, especially since he was fairly certain that that his emaciated, scarred and overly pale body was not providing the same level of visual pleasure. Still, something warm and pleasant pulsed against his stomach whenever he caught her studying his body with that open gaze, those eyes huge and seeing everything that he was without even the hint of guile.

She hesitantly brought over her hand to his, entwining fingers together and smiling softly.

"I'm going to miss...this…" she trailed off sadly.

"Me too," he said simply, trying to keep an even tone.

"But...maybe…." she glanced away and her cheeks were growing pink as she seemed to muster up her courage to say what she was thinking.

"Yes?" he said, and he almost smacked himself over the head instinctively at how nakedly eager he sounded.

"Well, I've been thinking….maybe I could see you during the break?" she said, her voice uncharacteristically small and quiet.

"I…." his mind began to frantically think of a way that he could somehow pull this off without causing an air of impropriety to descend on both of their heads, "I...will have to think about it. We must still be very careful. I do not think your parents would appreciate it if I visited and _something_ happened to cause you to transform into Lily in front of them. Additionally, I may be called to the Dark Lord's side for some of the time, and I do not want you to become involved."

"I...understand," she said sadly, trying to avoid his eyes.

He brought his free hand to her chin and turned her face to his, tilting his own down until their foreheads touched softly. He met her eyes with a calm stare.

"I will do whatever I can to make sure that I can visit you while you are away from Hogwarts," he said solemnly, trying not to smile at the suddenly eager expression that played across her face, "I will require your address. I assume that you have already come up with some plausible explanation as to why I would be turning up at your house, so I shall leave that part to you."

She squeaked happily and brought her mouth to his, wrapping her arms around him and drawing close to him again. He didn't know how to find the words to tell her that he would sooner choose to live a life without ever receiving a single holiday present again if only he could have her like this and leave his other, more unpleasant duties by the wayside. It was a wish that went unsaid but grew stronger in his heart as each day passed by, and some days he almost felt that he could make it into words, though he dared not try in the face of the forces he faced and bit them back again. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort were very good at taking what one loved and twisting it to be used for their own ends, even though they each did it in a different way. And he would sooner die than see Hermione be used to control his loyalties and actions. He felt her heart beating against his own in that steady _love me love me love me love me_ cadence and he tried to hold the moment and press it deeply into his memories before it slipped away with the passage of time.

* * *

They dozed together for a short while until Lily awoke and Hermione kissed Severus gently so that they could change places. Lily gave him a special pumpkin spice cake that she had baked herself using Hermione's knowledge of how to get into the kitchens, and as she was in Lily form, none of the house elves gave Lily any trouble whatsoever when she explained what she wanted to do, supplying her with her own oven and plenty of ingredients and supplies. She knew how much he loved these cakes, from when they were children and he would visit her parents' home for the holidays, often scarfing down three or four pieces. It was an Evans family tradition to make at least one per holiday, and before they had fallen out, Lily had taken to making a second one as a gift, which she would wrap in a box for him to take home and save.

The memories hit Severus hard, and he gave her a genuine smile when he smelled that distinct scent wafting up from the waxed box he'd opened. Just when he had almost forgotten why he'd fallen for Lily, he found himself falling again, the love building in his chest until he felt it might explode.

He had thanked her with a kiss of his own and they spent some time cuddling, with Lily looking slyly at him as she deduced exactly what he'd been up to with Hermione the entire time she'd been sleeping, and a sly insinuation that perhaps he should make sure that he wasn't offering unfairly uneven affection. This, of course, had led to catching up on their own carnal pursuits. He took her from behind this time, marveling at the way her wavy red hair ran down her milky white back, how her moans were so much higher than Hermione's and how her longer torso and legs lent themselves better to this position. Once she was sated, he watched her transform once again into a very physically spent Hermione, and he marveled again at this bright spot of pure happiness in a life that had been little more than suffering and despair before.

After a mutual look of sweaty understanding, they decided that a shower was in order, and he realized that it was actually quite amazing to have someone else in the shower to scrub his back and then happily return the favor. Getting to see one of his favorite people naked didn't hurt, either. After they were clean and some late-night snacks had been collected from the small kitchenette, Severus finished his informative explanations of his butterbeer potion findings.

"The most interesting part about this potion, one that stumped me for a few days," he said, "Is that, in the end, it's like the old riddle."

"Which one?" Hermione asked, munching quietly on a biscuit.

"When is a potion _not_ a potion?" Severus said slyly, smirking at Hermione's confused expression.

"I'm not sure I follow," she said carefully.

"The answer I found surprised me at first. I didn't think it would be possible to do, but a couple of the remaining ingredients that I thought were preservatives were actually binding agents. Go on, see if you can figure it out for yourself," he smiled wider at her look of determination.

Hermione was leafing through his notebook, and finally she made a noise of discovery.

"I got it!" she said loudly, "When is a potion not _a_ potion? When it's _two_ potions!"

"Precisely," he purred, and she got that pleasurable look on her face that she always had when a professor praised her work.

"Someone took the _Amortentia_ potion and….no, that can't be," Hermione said, shocked.

"But that is _exactly_ what they did," Severus replied, "Someone figured out how to bind the _Felix Felicis_ potion to _Amortentia_. Not only does it give a directed desire to the person who takes it, but it confers them pure luck for the duration of the potion's efficacy. _That_ is how you got through my sophisticated locks and magical barriers with nary a worry while under its influence. _That_ is why you were able to bind yourself to Lily. In fact, I'm not sure you would have succeeded that first time without having done that."

Hermione seemed to deflate a little, her face crestfallen.

"No, you misunderstand me," he said quickly, "This..._**you**_...are the _best thing that has ever happened to me._ I almost want to find out whoever did this and thank them, though I can tell that to some extent, the fact that you drank it instead of…._Potter_...was mere happenstance, and it is a happenstance that I am most grateful for. But the fact remains that this is what happened. And now that we know that, we can figure out how we can separate the two of you safely. I know it sounds presumptuous of me, but I do have a small lab of my own at my house in Spinner's End. If I can get the correct materials together by then, we may be able to make some headway on helping stop the transformations and getting Lily her own body."

It took them many hours of talking about their plans, and Hermione was sure to bring up her research on Shades, which Severus found incredibly interesting, not having studied that particular branch of magical theory before. They slept away a few blessedly quiet hours in the library, the lights having been magically dimmed to a comfortable deep twilight. The scent of him against her mingled with the heavenly smells of parchment, wood and ink and Hermione found it easy to fall into a comfortable and dreamless sleep. Severus, too, found it easier to sleep with her pressed against him, even though he still couldn't get comfortable until his wand was tucked safely under his pillow.

In the morning, Hermione was able to use the deserted corridors to her advantage as she rushed to get everything ready for the train, but she missed most of her fellow Gryffindor students and had to sit in the back with some first-year Hufflepuffs who kindly allowed her to take a window seat, as she still felt a vague sense of motion sickness. She had checked her bag a couple times and everything seemed to be in order, but she still had a strange sense of having forgotten something.

Severus could practically feel the moment that Hermione and Lily were no longer on the grounds of Hogwarts anymore. There was an empty sense of something being missing that hadn't been before, even when classes and obligations had kept them apart. He didn't like feeling this way- it was uncomfortable and unpleasant. It only strengthened his resolve to see her during the winter break, even if he had to create an artificial reason to go. He had her invitation, after all. It was silly for him to overthink this. It was only then, when he was looking around the room, gathering the clothing that still lay strewn on the stone floor, that he realized that Hermione's Christmas present had been knocked off the side table at some point and lay on the floor against the couch, forgotten.

Retrieving the package and tucking it into his robes, Severus grinned slightly as a plan began to materialize. He strode purposefully down the hall into his workroom, shoes clicking crisply against the stone, and began making preparations for the important work to come.


	51. Chapter 51

_Author's Note: Several commenters have been asking whether or not I was getting everyone all worked up about the whole "missed period" plot point, or if I just forgot about it altogether. I assure you that neither is true. I've been saving this up for you. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter 51: Muggle Tests**

"_Mum!_ I'm fine!" Hermione said loudly, having locked herself in the bathroom.

"_Hermione Jean Granger_!" her mother said sternly from the other side of the door, "You will do this, and you will do it before your father gets home! Now open the door!"

Hermione grumbled, but she did as she was told.

Her mother poked her hand in through the door, which was holding a brown paper bag.

"I'm not sure why you thought that you could purchase something like this without me finding out, but I would suggest that next time you attempt to do such a thing that you avoid leaving it sitting on your bedside table," the woman who glared down at her daughter looked a lot like an older version of Hermione, her skin a shade or two darker, with beautiful tightly curled hair that bounced like tiny springs around her face as she moved. Her voice at the moment was very similar to Hermione at her most bossy, and something about this fact grated on Hermione's nerves.

"Ok, ok!" she said testily, as she grabbed the bag, "Just leave me here for a little bit. I'll let you know as soon as I do!"

She heard her mother walking down the stairs muttering something about "how can that school be protected from all manner of things but _this_?" and Hermione blushed deeply, pulling the small boxed item out of the bag.

"Well," she said to herself, "I guess I had better get this over with before Mum changes her mind and decides that she wants to stand and observe the whole time."

She hoped that the muggle device wouldn't work properly, but something told her that in this sort of situation, even muggle technology could not be fooled.

* * *

Hermione wasn't completely oblivious about the physical goings on of her body. After the first month she had missed it, she had noticed that a distinct lack of her monthly cycle had seemingly coincided with when she had started school that fall, but she had dismissed it as part of the new precautions that had been placed on the school. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only one who read _Hogwarts: A History_. The section on student health went into some detail on the sorts of wards and spells that had been placed around the gates of Hogwarts, and one part specifically mentioned contraceptive charms. In fact, Hogwarts boasted an unblemished history of zero instances of accidental student pregnancies. So regardless of the initial shock of waking up in a sticky post coital mess and her subsequent forays into unprotected sex, she had done some more research in the library and was relatively confident that it would come to nothing. Still, a part of her felt a strange undercurrent of nagging suspicion that she was missing a crucial piece of information.

To make matters more complicated, it wasn't exactly possible to bring up her suspicions with Madame Pomfrey. Any information she divulged to the medi-witch was sure to be reported back in some way to Dumbledore, and she did not fancy answering questions about her nocturnal habits, especially not with the Headmaster. But even so, her doubts and worries persisted, so as soon as she had returned home for the break, she had taken the opportunity to take a bus downtown to one of the larger, more impersonal pharmacies to purchase something incredibly embarrassing but crucial for her peace of mind. Her parents, obviously, thought she was visiting the library and were supposed to be out for most of the day seeing dental patients anyway, so she felt it was the perfect moment to put her plan into effect. It had taken her about an hour of indecision to lump the item under five or six other innocuous items and place them on the checkout treadmill. She was glad when the lumpy teenager at the register simply gave her a bored, glazed look when asking for her money.

She berated herself for having been so stupid. Of course her mother had the infuriating habit of looking through her things, but she'd let down her guard because her mother was supposed to be at work until later that evening. But apparently, not many people wished to get teeth cleanings right around the holidays due to traveling, so her afternoon had been clear and she'd decided to come home and surprise her daughter. Hermione could not begrudge her mother for trying to be thoughtful, but she still found herself incredibly ashamed at having been caught.

_I'm so sorry, Hermione. I can't help but feel like I'm partially at fault for all of this stress._

Lily had been reassuring the entire morning and Hermione was grateful for her invisible friend. With Harry off with the Weasleys and Ron...well...being Ron, and Ginny stealing away with Dean all the time, Hermione didn't have anyone else to talk with about her worries. And while being an only child had its perks, not having a sibling to talk to about these sorts of things made Hermione wistful for a sister.

_If it makes you feel any better, I'm scared too._

It didn't, but she smiled half-heartedly and made a small, sad noise in reply.

Waiting for results of any test was never easy for Hermione. But this was the first one she was actually _hoping_ to fail. When she'd waited five minutes, she chanced a look and groaned.

_Maybe this one is broken. The box says you should try both to make sure._

Hermione steeled herself and grabbed the other one, hoping that Lily was right.

* * *

"Mum?" Hermione was walking down the stairs, her expression unreadable.

"Yes, Mio'luv?" her mother replied, using her silly childhood nickname as she pushed a cup of tea towards her daughter. Hermione was thankful for something to do with her hands as she added a little sugar and milk and stirred it all together with a silver spoon.

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that...well...it's not easy to say this…" Hermione trailed off, looking away.

"Hermione!" her mother said sternly, softening her tone when she saw her daughter shrink back at her name, "Just give me a straight answer, ok luv?"

"I'm….not….er...pregnant?" she said, adding a strange questioning tone to the end of her statement.

"Let me see, then," her mother was suspicious, holding out her hand.

Hermione placed the pregnancy tests in her mother's hand and her mother reviewed them seriously.

After a long moment, she sighed heavily and turned back to her daughter.

"Why exactly did you buy these if not to give me a heart attack, then?" she said tiredly.

"Well, it was for a friend of mine," Hermione lied, unable to make eye contact with her mother, grabbing them out of her mother's hands, "I'll throw these away, mum."

"In the future, have your friends take care of their own shopping, ok luv?" her mother said, the relief plain on her face, "Can you imagine what your father would say if he was the one who had found them?"

"Yes, mum," Hermione said quickly, gulping down her tea and quickly turning to go back up the stairs to her room, "I need to finish unpacking some things that I want to throw in the laundry basket, ok?"

Her mother made a noncommittal noise and Hermione made a quick retreat from the kitchen.

* * *

_I guess it's a good thing your mum is a muggle. She didn't notice that you used a Concealing Charm on the second line._

Hermione had waited until safely behind her bedroom door before she let the first tears slip from her eyes. She still felt completely in shock about the results. What had gone wrong? She and Severus had never had sex outside of the grounds of Hogwarts. Was _Hogwarts: A History_ lying about how effective the charms actually were? Or was it something else?

There were more questions than answers, and for the first time in a long time, Hermione was completely stumped.

_Hermione. I think we need to let him know._

Hermione nodded, hugging herself tightly as she felt a sudden chill in the pit of her stomach.

"He's going to _hate _me! I'll never see him _again_!" she hissed into her shoulder.

_Sev is not like that. He is loyal to a fault, even if it doesn't seem that way sometimes._

Hermione hoped that Lily was right as she fumbled for the bead around her neck.

"_Transcriptus_," she said, pulling her wand and thinking the words she wanted to send, extremely grateful that she was of age and could now do magic outside of school without getting punished by the Ministry.

_**I need to see you. H**_

The words in silver seemed to etch themselves into the deep black bead, then slipped away as though they had been absorbed under the surface.

It wasn't until that night, as she lay in her bed, trying to get comfortable, that she felt the heat prickle urgently against her skin.

_**Open your window. S**_

Hermione looked up as she heard a slight tapping noise against the glass and her heart leaped with both dread and excitement.

_Hermione, what are we going to tell him?_

Hermione didn't answer. She wished that she knew.


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52: Midnight Rendezvous**

"It's colder than a yeti's arse out there tonight," Severus grumbled as he climbed awkwardly through her window, clutching his cloak around himself.

Hermione found herself grinning despite the underlying feeling of terror that lurched in her stomach as she closed the window behind him.

He pulled his wand and Vanished the melting snow from his clothing and the floor in one graceful movement. Hermione was very impressed, and her heart leapt a little when she realized that he was there, really _there_, _in her room_, late at night.

He pulled off his cloak in a fluid motion and draped it over her desk, which had been bare and unused since she had packed for school that summer. He made a couple of sweeping motions with his wand and she realized that he was casting some sort of silencing charm so that no one would be able to overhear them. Not wanting to seem careless, she went over to her bedroom door and clicked the little lock button on the handle, though she knew that her parents had gone to bed hours ago.

She sat down on her bed and motioned for him to sit next to her. He followed her silently and when she felt his weight shift against the mattress, she turned to look at him in the light of her bedside table and tried to keep tears from filling her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he said quietly, his face tight with concern, "I was under the impression that we would not be meeting until Christmas Eve. Did something change?"

"I guess you could say that," Hermione replied, looking at her lap, "I needed to talk to you."

"I'm here," he said, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her. She shuddered, feeling her body relax against his, and tried very hard not to cry at the sudden stabbing fear that this would be the last time she'd ever be so close to him.

It took her a few minutes to compose herself enough to speak again.

"First...can you promise me something?" she said plaintively, and he nodded for her to continue, "Please promise me that you won't leave until you've heard all that I have to say?"

He looked at her with concern, and she found that it made her even more nervous than before. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest as though it was amplified against her ribcage. She was so afraid. Lily was whispering words of courage and comfort, but Hermione knew that she had to be the one to tell him, not Lily, and the gulf of silence that stretched before her was terrifying.

"I'm not sure how it happened," she began, pausing as he turned to meet her eyes, his expression unreadable, "But it appears that I...we...no, that's..._I_ am...well..._pregnant."_

Her face flushed and she felt hot tears rushing to her eyes as her mouth formed that last word. _Pregnant_. It was weird and foreign on her tongue, like something that someone else would say. How many times would she have to say the word until it became normal, something as easy to pronounce as _Wingardium Leviosa_?

His body stiffened, and when she looked up at him again, blinking and watery-eyed, she saw that his expression had changed. He was obviously shocked, but there was a raw fear in his eyes as he looked down at her, his eyes darting to her abdomen momentarily before looking back at her face.

"Are you sure?" he said, after a long silence, and his voice was achingly gentle.

Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and got up off of the bed, returning with the small box where she'd placed the results.

"Here, you can look at them," she said, handing them over to him, feeling herself growing hysterical as she rambled on, "I used both and they say that I am, and I've been freaking out all day and I'm sure you're going to hate me and never want to see me again and I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do now and...I'm just so _scared_."

He held them up to the light, inspecting the two blue lines on each.

"I know what these are," he said, squinting his eyes a little as he read the tiny instructions on the side of the box, "They tend to be very accurate, I hear. Lily probably told you already, but I grew up in a muggle household, and even though I abandoned it as soon as I possibly could, there are still bits and pieces of muggle knowledge that remain in my memory from the time I spent in that world."

"I guess...that's it then," Hermione said sorrowfully.

"What, exactly do you mean?" he replied, returning the contents to the box and handing it back to her.

"Severus," she tried again, mustering up every bit of courage she could, "I am _pregnant._ At some point, a bit of you and a bit of me combined and made...this."

She gestured to her abdomen as though it were obvious, even though she didn't really have much of a shape to betray her condition.

"I am well aware how conception occurs," he replied with an edge of irritation in his voice.

Hermione stood up, wrapping her arms around herself even though the room was not cold and backed away from where Severus was seated on the bed, looking at her quizzically.

"Well? Aren't you going to yell at me? Call me a stupid girl? Tell me that you hate me for ruining your life and making things complicated for you? Aren't you going to tell me that there's no way we can make this work and leave me to sort it out for myself alone?!" Hermione's voice kept rising and she was aware of the fact that she had begun shouting, but she found that she couldn't contain the twisting anxious thoughts that had been circling silently in her brain all afternoon.

_Hermione, you need to calm down. You're acting like he's already left. And regardless of what happens, you know that I'll always be here._

"SHUT UP, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING! I'M BASICALLY GARBAGE NOW AS FAR AS HE IS CONCERNED AND NO ONE WILL EVER WANT ME AGAIN SO DON'T TELL ME THAT I NEED TO CALM DOWN!"

Strong, pale hands were grasping her wrists then and she struggled against them, but was held fast by their surprising strength. Her anger made futile, the sorrow and the sadness rose in her with a vengeance, and she sobbed raggedly into his chest as Severus brought her against him, wrapping his arms around her.

"Is that what _you_ want me to do?" he asked quietly, "Or is that what you merely _fear_ that I will do?"

"But...bu-" she hiccuped ungracefully.

"You must understand something, Hermione," he said curtly, interrupting her, "You did not magically _get yourself pregnant_. Unless something has changed recently about human anatomy, _we did this together_. We may not have been consciously trying to make this happen, but now that I am aware, I promise to do my best to be by your side every step of the way, regardless of what happens and what you decide to do."

She blinked at him, "What do you mean by that?"

"Depending on how far along you are, you may decide to terminate. You obviously do not have to, but you can weigh your options later. If you wish to keep it and there are no unforeseen complications, we will have to come up with some way to hide your condition from your friends and the school in general so that you can finish the school year without being interrupted. We can arrange for you to be able to go back afterwards, though I sincerely hope that by then, we are no longer at war."

He kissed her softly, then, and she was almost amazed when she didn't transform, though a part of her wasn't altogether surprised considering how distraught she still felt, the storm of fear and sadness raging on painfully in her heart.

"This just feels so surreal," Hermione said softly, feeling a rising lump at the back of her throat, "I thought you'd attack me, blame me."

"I am sorry that you still think so poorly of me," Severus replied bitterly, "But I can understand your concerns. I am not always the most pleasant of company, and if my years of teaching attest for anything, I doubt greatly my abilities as a parent. However, I would never hate you for something like this, and I do not run away from those who need me, especially those I love. I meant what I said when I told you that being with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. If you told me that you wanted as many babies as the Weasleys, I'd be willing to help you make them, even though I am grumbly and surly and terrible with children of all ages on principle."

Hermione felt herself blushing scarlet to the roots of her hair.

"I-I wouldn't ever want _that_ many children!" she exclaimed, waving her hands back and forth wildly, trying to shake away the sudden mental image she was getting of Severus sitting on a couch with a gaggle of children of different ages climbing on him and looking very grimly determined not to scream.

"I was not insinuating that you did," he replied, his expression softening, "But I am willing to do it. For you."

"It's late," Hermione said uncertainly, "But I really, really don't want to be alone tonight. I know, I know, Lily's still here with me, but I want to feel your body next to mine. I don't know how I'll get to sleep otherwise."

"I was not anticipating a frosty trip out in this cold anyway," he smirked and she felt her heart melt and her body relaxed for the first time in what seemed like hours.

He used his wand to expand the twin sized bed so that they both fit easily together on it, though his thin frame was slight enough to fit on the original mattress without too much trouble. He stripped methodically down to his shorts, and she found herself slipping out of her nightshirt so she could press her bare skin against his. They spooned together under her comforter, and when he ran one hand over her abdomen softly, she flinched at first, but relaxed after she felt his touch run over the area several times. It made the whole situation all the more real to her. She wondered if he would do it more when there was something actually there, a bump, a movement, and she found herself growing warm and almost happy at the thought of having created something together like this, as inconvenient and impractical it was.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered into her ear, and she shivered with delight against his touch.

"I love you too, Severus," she whispered back, and she felt a genuine smile rise from her chest and play over her lips. The intensity of the emotions that had built and broken from her in the past day had left her feeling drained, but now she didn't feel alone anymore, with the warmth of his body against her's, his hands touching her in that reverent, deliberate way that she adored.

"Please...can you…stay with me...always?" she said faintly, falling finally into a sleepy daze.

"Yes," he said, and she could hear his voice waver, "Always."


	53. Chapter 53

**;) Just so you know….**

**Chapter 53: Morning Ministrations**

Hermione woke up feeling warm and comfortable the next morning, but her mind felt jumbled. She had been dreaming about going down to the kitchen for breakfast, only to find that she was in the Hogwarts library instead. Madame Pince was there, dressed up in a white dentist's coat, her mouth covered with a green surgical mask, and she kept accusing Hermione of having checked out a baby from the library.

"You've run out of renewals, young lady!" Madame Pince growled in the dream, "So you had better return it by tomorrow unless you want a five thousand Galleon fine!"

The dreamscape had shifted suddenly and she was running from a dragon, a giant egg clutched to her chest. She kept trying to set the egg down, but it was stuck tight to her hands as though someone had used a Permanent Sticking Charm. In the end, she had smashed the egg to free herself and Harry appeared and accused her of murdering Ron. She looked down at the egg and realized that it wasn't an egg at all, it was Ron in his Quidditch robes, looking pale and broken on the ground. Then Severus showed up dressed up as a referee and gave her a hundred points to Gryffindor for being incredibly sexy and Dumbledore brought her a giant silver cup filled with books while everyone cheered.

"Ugh," she moaned uncomfortably, pushing her hair out of her sleep-blurred eyes.

It was hard to discern reality from the dream for a couple moments, and when she realized that the man curled up next to her was real, she squeaked in surprise, almost rolling off the bed.

"Good morning to you, too," Severus murmured quietly, one eyebrow raised in amusement, as he turned over to meet her eyes with his own.

"I just had the weirdest dream, but it's funny, I can hardly remember what it was about now," Hermione frowned slightly, "I think it had something to do with Quidditch, even though I'm rubbish at it and don't particularly care for the sport in general."

"To be fair," he replied, smirking slightly, "The games kind of blur together for me as well. And if you hadn't already guessed, I was more of an academic than an athlete when I was a student, as well."

"That makes two of us," Hermione said, relieved that Severus wasn't going to go on at length about plays and tactics, even though he was Head of Slytherin and therefore often authorized practices and was at least somewhat involved with his House's Quidditch team.

He hesitantly stretched out his hand and moved a stray strand of curly, tangled hair from where it had fallen against her nose and she noticed a ghost of a smile curl on his lips for a moment before his expression changed back to neutral with a hint of concern.

"Thanks for being...here...last night," Hermione said shyly.

For some reason, everything seemed less surreal in the morning, but she still felt a small twist of awkwardness in her stomach when she realized how vulnerable and raw she had become the night before. He lay on his side saying nothing and let her have some space to herself on the bed, but she felt a strange wave of his cool, almost electric power run over her, as though he were reassuring her without touching her. Lily was right. When it really mattered, Severus Snape would not abandon someone he loved, even if it would be simpler to just cut and run. For someone with so many scars and a history of horrific abuses, it occurred to Hermione that he was far more trustworthy than she gave him credit for.

He'd stayed with her all night long because she'd asked, and even though her parents were sure to be up soon if they weren't already, he had risked it to stay with her. Something in her broke under the weight of the gratitude in her heart, and she closed the distance between them, pressing herself against his naked chest and wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling the uneven marks down his back where the scars pitted the skin, though they had faded considerably after that time in the library where she had kissed them better, a time that seemed a million years in the past.

He stiffened slightly at her touch as she traced one of the grooves along his spine lightly, but relaxed again into her touch as her caresses ran along his skin.

"Are you sure-?" He began as she drew her lips to his, kissing him fiercely, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, matching her desire with his own.

There were no more words as they twisted in the sheets, bodies pressed together, sharing warmth and the frantic thrum of need in their heartbeats.

There was a moment of uncertainty when he slipped inside of her, but she met his concerned look with a thrust of her hips and a sly look, sliding him deeper into her and his face took on a hungry, lustful expression as he groaned at how perfectly wet and slick she was inside, how she pulled against him as he moved in her, drawing out sweet, soft sounds of pleasure from her lips.

She bucked against him, her orgasm building at her core, and she didn't want to stop until she felt that aching release inside of her. He too seemed to be riding a wave of pleasure as they crashed into one another again and again.

He began to tense in that familiar way, his body going rigid as he sought his own release. But just as she felt that silvery shiver of orgasmic bliss building to a roar, he stopped, and she bucked futily against him as he pulled back and looked at her in a pained, serious manner.

"Why...did...you...stop?" She growled breathlessly.

Severus caught his breath for a moment and then looked at her uncertainly.

"Do you wish for me to continue?" He panted, "I-I do not think that my body can endure this amount of sensation for much longer."

"Look at me, Severus," Hermione said huskily, and her heart thrilled as he did, his eyes gazing deeply into her own, "I want this. With you. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside of me. I-it's not like I can get _more_ pregnant, or something."

She blushed deeply at having mentioned her current condition again, it seemed to make it more real to them both even though she couldn't yet feel all that different beyond a couple extra aches and pains.

"I...feel similarly," he said hesitantly, as though he had been about to say something else, "But I do not wish to force you to do anything you may regret later if you are still feeling unsure about me."

Hermione's heart twinged a little at the insinuation. She felt terrible for having doubted his loyalty, especially after all they had shared together, but another part of her felt a thin needle of righteous indignation that anyone else in her situation would have reacted similarly.

She felt the heat rising in her belly as she took courage from her desire to prove to Severus that she _did_ want him and everything that entailed. Before he could react, she had pushed him off of her and to into his back, somewhat surprised at how easily she was able to do so. Before he could recover from the shock at what she had done, she rolled on top of him, pressing her weight firmly against him and leaned down over him, nuzzling her nose against his, her hair falling in a curating around their faces.

"Shall I prove my willingness to you, then?" She whispered, barely an inch from his lips.

A small, strangled noise escaped his lips as if in reply and she couldn't help herself, bringing her lips to his over and over again as she rubbed against him. He moaned freely into her mouth as she pressed against him a final time and, drawing up her hips as he reached up to hold either side of her waist as though to protest against the absence of her, she grabbed his shaft firmly with one hand, guiding him inside of her. His breath drew in sharply at the sudden sensation and his eyes went wide as she began to fuck him at a slow, deliberate pace.

As she ground against him, she could feel that silvery halo of light that grew in her like a ring of smoke, pulsing and growing outward from a single point as he moved against her, the angle providing deep, lustful penetration that his body seemed to know instinctively how to explore.

When she felt like she couldn't hold on any longer, she entwined her fingers around his, bending down until her chest was resting against his and she rested the side of her head against his shoulder, looking at him with her eyes half-open in a sexual haze.

"Come for me, Severus," she whispered urgently as she felt herself start to shudder as she rode him, "Inside me. _Please, Severus_."

He did not reply, but she felt his grip intensify around her fingers as he bottomed out deep inside of her and he chased her climax with his own, his body shaking hard against hers as he filled her until she thought she would overflow with the heat of it, the rolling light of their combined magic filling her sight until she knew nothing but the flickering intensity of sensation along every nerve of her body.

Hermione collapsed against Severus and they lay together, panting and spent and slick with sweat. Their heartbeats ran together, slowing as they basked in an orgasmic afterglow.

"I wish it could be like this more often," Hermione said wistfully once she had recovered enough to speak again.

"Agreed," he replied, and Hermione realized that his body appeared more relaxed than she had seen in a long while, each feeling other's breathing even out as their bodies radiated relief in a post-orgasmic haze.

"Don't you wish that we could always be like this?" Hermione said softly, after a time.

"I would personally prefer a lot less sneaking around and possible to probable death at every turn if it were me," he replied sarcastically, smirking a little.

"You know what I mean," she replied, smiling back at him and poking him playfully on the nose, "Just us, no one interrupting or causing trouble."

"I don't know about that," he said snarkily, "I hear that children are very good at both interrupting and causing trouble."

"That's not what I meant!" Hermione faux-pouted.

_Hey, Hermione, looks like you guys were having fun without me again. No fair!_

"Yep. Well, so much for no interruptions," Hermione said smugly.

"Lily?" Severus asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Ah, well, that reminds me-"

Severus was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Hermione?" came the sound of her mother's voice on the other side of the door as she jiggled the locked handle of her door to Hermione's bedroom.

Hermione suddenly realized that she was completely naked, with a naked man who was also a professor at her school and covered in obvious post-coital sweat as well as other fluids. Her stomach dropped as though it were filled with a sack of bricks. She looked at Severus and back at the door in panic.

"Hermione," Severus said quietly, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Grab your bag with your wand and some clothing- you do not have to put it on. Then take my arm," he said urgently.

Hermione knew then what he was proposing to do and grabbed her things quickly, clasping his right arm tightly as he draped his cloak and remaining clothing over the other.

With a thoroughly uncomfortable feeling, as though she were being turned inside out and squeezed through a tube of toothpaste, Hermione had a momentary vision of her bedroom door opening before all was darkness and she realized with a nauseous knot in the pit of her stomach that she would now know exactly how it felt to Apparate.


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54: The House of Snape **

Hermione was on her knees, vomiting into some dried out bushes in a small, ratty-looking backyard. The house before her looked twisted and dirty somehow, as though it had never been cleaned or painted and, from the looks of it, had probably been built during a sandstorm. The windows were thick with grime and she couldn't see anything through them. The bushes grew tall and wild, obscuring the view from any nosy neighbors, but the weeds in most places were also at least knee-high, which was uncomfortable, especially since Hermione was still very naked.

Once she felt that that it was impossible for anything else to remain in her stomach and her head had stopped spinning for the most part, she found a hand being offered to her, and a-somehow-partially-dressed Severus pulled her up to a standing position. It wasn't horribly cold in the late morning, but there was a chill, and Hermione felt goosebumps rising on her arms and legs as he led her up the back porch. He made a couple of wand movements and said some words that sounded like they were from an ancient language that she didn't recognize, and before she knew it, the door had opened, and he was ushering her inside.

She wasn't sure what to expect once she entered, but she was pleasantly surprised. The house was somewhat shabbily furnished, but it was generally clean and the inside seemed bigger than it appeared on the outside. It was also nice and warm, even though she didn't see a fireplace anywhere. Hermione passed a room piled high with books, and in the gloom she thought she glimpsed a similar library to the one she had encountered at Hogwarts in his offices.

"Yes," he said absently as she stared at the doorway to the library with interest, "It is basically the same library. I had a customer set it up for me so that the books are at Hogwarts as well as in this house, even though both are technically separate and in different places. No, you can't travel to Hogwarts from here or from here to Hogwarts by going in there. No, I do not know how it works, exactly. The witch who did this for me said that it was part of an experimental branch of Transfiguration, but she _really_ needed the potion that I made for her, so it was a fair trade. So far, I have had zero problems using it and it is very useful not having to lug books here on breaks, but I would appreciate it if you stayed out of there unless I am with you just in case."

They stepped into a small, cozy sitting room, also full of books, with a fireplace, a couch and a couple of leather armchairs. He set down his remaining things and began to dress the rest of the way, pausing to look at Hermione in askance when she simply stood there, still completely nude.

"Um, I hate to be a stickler for hygiene," she said, blushing with embarrassment, "But I would really, _really_ like a shower right now."

"Of course," he said, and gestured to the stairs, "It's up the stairs and directly in front of you as you get to the top landing."

Hermione did not need to be told twice. She grabbed her clothing and hustled up the stairs, feeling his appreciative eyes on the back of her as she padded up to the bathroom. It made her smile a little inside, knowing that he found her attractive when she was so used to being overlooked and awkward.

As she shut the door, she heard him call out, "When you are done, I will meet you in the kitchen. It is down at the end of the hall. I will put the kettle on and see if I can put together some food for us to eat. We have much to discuss."

_I've never been inside of Sev's house before!_

Lily sounded excited. Hermione couldn't blame her. Lily was his childhood friend, but from everything that she'd been told, outside of Hogwarts, Lily had only ever seen him in public places or when he had visited her house.

_Of course, my parents always cautioned me about coming out to Spinner's End. It's not exactly a good part of town. There were problems with drugs, gangs and violence when I was growing up, so I don't expect much has changed._

Hermione felt a pang of sadness for the little boy who grew up in this twisted, battered house. Something told her that it probably looked better on the inside now than it had back when Severus was growing up. And she was curious about what had happened to his mother and father- what kind of people they were and what exactly had prompted them to move to _here_ of all places.

Hermione set to work cleaning herself up while Lily chattered away about how it was really quite nice to be back near where she grew up, promising Hermione that she would show her around the area if she was so inclined to see it, as long as Sev wasn't being a fuddy-duddy.

_-And you really must try the ice cream at Stephenson's Pharmacy, if it's still there. I remember that Tunie and I used to go there all the time in the summer when we were little! Mum used to give us a pound or two and we'd get two scoops apiece and still have some left over for comics or a magazine and a stick of gum._

Hermione hadn't really thought much about Harry's Aunt Petunia outside of her hand in making Harry's life miserable, but as Lily talked about her older sister, she noticed that while Lily was sometimes at odds with her sister (who was much more interested in fitting in and being proper), she still regarded Petunia as a generally good person who she loved dearly, even when she thought her sister was being pig-headed.

_I really wish that Petunia hadn't been so broken-hearted about not being able to go to Hogwarts too. She just couldn't cope with the fact that she didn't have magic, but that didn't somehow make her inferior to me. So she took it out on me and tried to convince everyone that magic was horrible and freakish. I don't think she ever really convinced herself of it, though. Even now, I can remember catching her sneaking into my room and trying out my wand- trying to get it to do something, anything. I'm glad nothing ever came of it. I would have been in trouble with the Ministry because of my Trace, you know. She did it more than once, too. Poor Tunie. She just wanted to be special, but she convinced herself that mundanity was somehow better when she found out that she couldn't be special in the only way that mattered to her._

Hermione found herself somewhat glad that she didn't have a sister after hearing Lily's story about Petunia. For some reason, the idea that she could be magical and have a sibling who was not had never occurred to her. She shuddered to think what it would have been like had she an older or younger sibling with magical aptitude while she was forced to stay in the muggle world, knowing all the while that fantastic things and above all, _magic_, was _real_.

Hermione toweled herself dry and put on her clothing- a simple pair of jeans and a long-sleeved dark blue thermal shirt. She studied herself in the mirror disdainfully. It wasn't exactly a chic ensemble. But it would have to do. It was the best she could do in the hurry she'd been in that morning.

She began to think, then, about her parents. Whether or not her father and mother would worry about where she had gone. She resolved to think up a plausible story and call them to put them at ease. However, she knew that her mother was scheduled to do a couple of fillings that afternoon and her father had been complaining about how a certain Mr. Barnabas had already rescheduled his bridge procedure that day three times already, and it was going to take twice as much work to get it to stay put because he hadn't come in to get it sorted out quickly.

"My parents tried to have more than one child," Hermione said to Lily quietly, "They wanted two, originally. But something happened. My mum was able to have me alright, but they just...couldn't, after. My mum was heartbroken about it for years- she blamed herself because they couldn't find anything wrong with my dad and her hormones and stuff seemed normal. In the end, they just diagnosed her with Non-specific Infertility. They even tried to adopt at one point, but they were turned down because both of them work outside the home and the adoption center wanted at least one parent to be home for the first year to facilitate bonding. We had a dog for awhile, then a couple cats. My mum keeps herself busy and she seems to have made peace with the fact that her family will never look the way she imagined it would. I do know that this makes me all that much more important to them. I'm not sure what they would do without me."

_You're probably also not sure how they would react if they knew about...your condition._

Hermione frowned, not quite sure what Lily was referring to, but then she felt that familiar sinking feeling in her stomach when she remembered that she was pregnant. She kept feeling completely normal and fine, and then someone or something would remind her that a small ball of vaguely human-shaped tissue was growing inside of her, and a surreal, detached feeling would come over her, as though her body belonged to someone else. She only hoped that it got easier as time went on.

"I'm going to ask Severus to take me to a muggle clinic," she told Lily, "I don't want to risk the magical world finding out about my _condition_ and using my vulnerability to prey on me or anyone who is involved with me. But I need to know the facts- whether or not I'm healthy, how far along it is, etcetera."

_I think that's a good idea._

Hermione grinned as she opened the door leading from the bathroom to the upstairs landing and then carefully descended the stairs, "Well good, then we can tell him it's two against one if he disagrees."

* * *

She could smell eggs and sausage cooking, along with the familiar earthy smell of some sort of breakfast tea. The tea and sausage was alright, but the smell of eggs made her stomach churn. As she entered the kitchen, she saw a small wooden table with four mismatched chairs pushed around it. She chose one of the closest chairs and sat down, not wanting to disturb the controlled chaos that appeared to be in progress.

"Would you like some toast? I wanted to save that part for last so it would not be cold by the time you got downstairs," Severus said briskly as he set some items on the table, "I thought I had some jam, but I must have been mistaken. I hope you enjoy marmalade or plain butter."

"That's ok," Hermione said, as she felt her stomach ache with hunger while also suffering a twinge of nausea, "But for some reason, the smell of eggs is making me feel really ill. Is there some way for you to cover them with something so I don't have to smell them?"

He grabbed a pan that had been sitting on the range of the somewhat antiquated looking stove and placed them in the oven, closing the door quietly. The smell of eggs immediately dissipated, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the uncomfortable sickness in her stomach calmed.

"Is that better?" he asked quietly, and Hermione realized with a shock that he was wearing a white chef's apron. She had never seen him wearing any other color besides black, so this was a bit of a shock.

Seeing her staring, Severus followed her line of sight and shrugged.

"It is important to wear the proper gear while cooking to preserve one's clothing," he said simply, "This was the least obnoxious option at the muggle cooking supply store."

Hermione suppressed a laugh at the mental image of the tall, imposing Defense teacher dressed up in a "Kiss the Cook" apron, and nodded while he narrowed his eyes slightly at her.

"Do you mind sharing what is so funny about my attire?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with your apron," Hermione said, smirking a little, "It suits you. But I was imagining some of the..._other_…options- my dad actually has one that says 'Kiss the Cook' that he wears when we do summer barbeques in the backyard. It sounds cliche, but he makes it work for him."

Severus made a noise of disgust and rolled his eyes theatrically, the look on his face conveying exactly what he thought about novelty aprons.

"I didn't say you had to get one!" Hermione giggled despite herself.

"Yes, well, let us simply forget that such things even exist in this world," he said dismissively, "Next thing you know, you will be expecting me to wear Hawaiian shirts and..._flip flops_."

He sneered at the thought, but Hermione was shaking with silent laughter at the mental image. He sighed deeply before continuing.

"When you are quite done with imagining potential wardrobe changes for me, how about we have breakfast and talk about a few more serious topics?" Severus said snidely, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in an amused smirk.

They are in a comfortable silence, as though this was merely one of many breakfasts that they had shared together. In a way, this was true, though they had never shared a table in the Great Hall. Hermione automatically cleared the dishes away once they were finished (it was a habit from childhood for Hermione to clear the table and fill the dishwasher, as her mother tended to cook the meals and her father dealt with the larger dishes that wouldn't fit in the dishwasher), while Severus left the room to gather the materials he needed. Hermione noticed that there was no dishwasher here, so she merely stacked the plates and other assorted dishes and rinsed them.

She heard a loud noise behind her and jumped in surprise. A large scroll had rolled off the table and clattered to the floor. He gave her a sheepish look as she rolled it back up and placed it gently on the wooden table.

"I did not mean to frighten you," he said distractedly.

She shrugged to let him know she didn't mind and inhaled that lovely familiar scent of parchment and ink, her eyes glancing around with gleeful interest at all of the materials spread out before her.

"So," he said, as he drew up straight and rigid as though he was about to start lecturing, giving Hermione the distinct desire to start taking notes, "Today, I think it is time to talk about figuring out a more permanent alternative for both Lily as well as yourself, Hermione. After our last discussion about Shades, I was able to speak with a...colleague of mine...about the materials I needed. Hermione, is Lily there with you?"

Hermione nodded.

"Do you mind switching with her? I think she deserves to hear the specifics and decide if this is the course she wishes to take," he said sternly, but she could hear that his tone contained a hint of anxiety.

Hermione smiled softly and stood up, approaching him a little hesitantly. When they were within inches of another, she could still smell the faint musky scent of sex on his skin from earlier that morning and something shifted pleasurably inside of her.

"I guess I'll see you soon," she said shyly, and she reached up, pulling him down to her gently and kissing his lips.

The change was almost instantaneous. Her hair fell flat and deep red, her features phasing into Lily's familiar visage.

"You rang, Sev?" Lily smiled mischievously, biting her lip as she looked up at him with her wide green eyes.

"Lily," he said tiredly, "You know that I would do anything to be assured of your safety."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," Lily replied cheekily.

He sighed again, more deeply this time.

"Indeed," he said darkly, "The problem is that I have only been able to find one or two references to the transferring of a Shade from its original Foundation, and all of them are risky."

"So you're saying that I might get hurt?" Lily asked worriedly.

"No," Severus said somberly, "I am saying that there is a good chance that you may _die_."


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55: A Shade Darker**

"We won't know for sure until we try it, will we, Sev?" Lily said hesitantly.

He nodded slightly.

"This is why I wished to speak to you frankly about your options," he continued slowly, "Obviously, now that we know about Hermione's _situation_, it will be less risky to try to separate you two soon than if we wait until later on. But let me be clear, there is very little in the way of precedent as far as your situation is concerned. We will be risking a lot with a fair measure of uncertainty as far as the outcome is concerned."

"I understand," Lily said, her voice wavering, "But I still want to try. I don't want to die, obviously, but I also don't want to keep hijacking Hermione's body every time she gets a little bit hot and bothered. And as much as I love an excuse to fuck your brains out, Sev, I must admit that it feels much better when we aren't just doing it so that Hermione won't get in trouble for missing class because she came down with a case of _Becoming Lily Evans_."

"That's not-" he started and she placed one finger on his lips while shaking her head.

"Don't lie to me, Sev. And don't lie to yourself. You're terrible at it in any case," Lily said, her voice wavering a little as she bit her lip uncomfortably, "I know that I seem less real to you because you can't see or hear me when I'm not like _this_. And I know for a fact that you have far more in common with Hermione than you do with me. I've watched you two embed yourselves in your books and parchment and talk excitedly about all manner of things that I'm still not sure I understand. Even though we're childhood friends, sometimes I wonder if that's all you see me as- a piece of your past that you just can't let go of- and not a _person_, someone with hope, dreams and goals of my own. You know my body intimately, but what about my mind? Hermione has been a good friend to me and I want to protect her too, but I miss being with you, at your side, even though you never even knew I was there. So here's what I propose. All I want for Christmas is one perfect day with you. We'll go out, we'll have an entire day together and we'll share your bed at the end of it. After that, we can try to separate me, and if things go wrong, I can die happy knowing that I got one day in an actual physical body of my own."

"What does Hermione have to say about this?" he asked quietly, his expression unreadable.

Lily turned to her side and seemed to be listening to something.

"Hermione says that as long as we can come up with an idea of how to keep her parents from worrying, that it is fine with her," Lily said, her eyes full of gratitude for the invisible girl.

"I may have an idea that would work suitably well for our needs," Severus said slyly, "But first we will need to find a muggle pay phone."

* * *

Angus Stephenson had owned and operated his shop for over fifty years, and at 78 years of age, he still considered himself fairly sound of mind. So when he idly glanced out the shop's front window and saw a deserted street and then glanced back a few seconds later to see a tall, thin man with a hooked nose and clad all in black like one of those Goth kids who sometimes frequented the area, along with a young, red haired woman who was willowy and tall, and whose clothing hung on her in the sort of ill-fitting way that still somehow looked flattering, appear from seemingly nowhere, he found himself blinking madly and rubbing the lenses of his thick coke-bottle glasses with his shirtsleeve just to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Together the two of them made an odd couple as they walked up to the phone booth outside his shop, both of them going inside together. Something about how they moved together reminded him of two awkward teenagers on a date, though the man was obviously at least somewhat older than his companion.

Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Angus watched them make a phone call, both of them taking turns talking to the person on the other side of the line. It wasn't unheard-of for him to see repeat customers, but something about their body language seemed suspiciously familiar. He tried to let it go, but a part of him latched onto the thought, turning it around in his head like one of those puzzle cubes with the different colored sides that he sold on the toy aisle. Part of him hoped that they'd come into his shop, though they made no motion to do so at the moment. He just _knew_ he'd seen them before, but where? Dusty, seldom-used gears began to turn in his mind, and he shifted at the tall counter, deep in thought.

* * *

Lily had only expected to call and leave a message, so when Hermione's mother answered, she was caught off guard. Luckily, Hermione's voice in her ear told her exactly what to say to put her mother at ease. The agreed-upon excuse was an impromptu girl's day out that Hermione had been dragged off to by a couple of her nearby friends, including a movie, some assorted last minute Christmas shopping, lunch and then back to Lily's house for dinner. Hermione's mother was frustrated at first at the lack of notes (especially since Hermione was usually so good about these things), but she relented when Lily told her that Hermione had tried to but Lily had been so eager to get to their movie that she'd told Hermione that they'd call and explain what was going on later, and the time had gotten away from them.

Severus had to play at the part of Lily's dad, which made Lily giggle fiercely the entire time he was on the phone telling Mrs. Granger that he appreciated that she thought he was brave for schlepping a bunch of teenaged girls around in his car all day long. While Severus was not exactly what one would call "charming," he was used to speaking with an air of authority that other adults seemed to appreciate and find dependable, especially since his weary voice at having to supervise others was all too recognizable. Once they were off the phone, the whole day through the evening had been arranged, and Lily stretched her arms gleefully towards the sky as she stepped from the calling box.

"Where shall we go first?" Severus said evenly, and Lily smiled impishly, hooking her arm in his, leading him down the sidewalk.

"There's a reason I said we should use this particular public phone," she said mysteriously.

A little bell rang tinnily as she pushed open the shop door.

"Can I help you?" an older man's voice echoed slightly as they entered.

"Do you still serve ice cream?" Lily asked hopefully.

"Aye, it's over on the side counter by the register," the shopkeeper replied, moving over to a small area next to the register where a glass case displayed a number of flavors.

"Ooh, the price is still the same as it used to be when I was a kid!" Lily said hungrily, "What'll you have, Sev?"

The man wearing all black looked awkwardly at the shopkeeper and glanced down to the drums of ice cream behind the glass.

"I think….vanilla is fine," he said uncomfortably.

Lily ordered two scoops- mint chip and strawberry- her two favorite flavors, though they clashed horribly when eaten at the same time, and she licked happily away at them as Severus paid the man.

"You know," the shopkeeper said suddenly, "You two look familiar. I keep trying to place you two, but I can't seem to remember. Old brain, you see."

"Oh yes!" Lily said gleefully, "I used to live round here. Came up with my sister for ice cream and comics all the time!"

"Lily," Severus said sternly, "I think we ought to go on our way and stop bothering the man…._now."_

"Why?" Lily pouted, biting a large chunk out of her mint-chip scoop, "He's just being nice."

"_**Lily**__,_" the tone was even but he placed an emphasis on her name that made her stop and look at him.

"Sorry," she said to the shopkeeper, "I guess we'd better get going. Wouldn't do to be rude and jabber on with you when you've got work to do, I suppose. It was nice to see you again!"

The little bell on the door tinkled merrily as they exited.

* * *

It was not five minutes afterwards that Angus had a sudden glimmer of recognition. Oh! The two girls with flowery names! But that was a long, long time ago. The girl would be well into adulthood now, not a teenager. And didn't something terrible happen to the parents? It was all hush-hush, so naturally everyone in the neighborhood had a crazy theory about it. And then, one of the girls? It was in the news. A death, seemingly without a cause, and so young. No, it couldn't be. Maybe she was the sister who had lived. Maybe she was someone else. Sometimes it seemed like the years and the people just blurred together. She had been nice, though, and he appreciated the business. Things were slow these days. Everyone wanted to go to the big chain stores and shopping centres.

His head ached mightily at all of his mental efforts, and he was rubbing the base of his neck when the bell tinkled merrily, signalling that someone else had entered the shop.

"How can I help you?" he said genially, turning to see the young man who was striding towards him.

"Oh, I'm not going to buy anything," the stranger replied, and he pulled a long stick-like object from his pocket.

"I don't keep more than a hundred dollars in my till at all times," Angus said, his voice cracking in anger, "Just move along and there won't be any trouble."

"Why do I even bother even trying to talk to the muggles?" the young man said dismissively, running his fingers through his white-blond hair in a self-assured manner, "It's like trying to talk to monkeys, honestly."

"I warn you!" Angus shouted, "A policeman walks this beat regularly, so you'd best be gone by the time he walks by if you know what's good for you!"

"Oh, I'm _so afraid_," replied the stranger mockingly, and then his expression shifted until he appeared almost demented as he moved the stick in a strange motion.

"What are-?" Angus was able to get out before he froze in a silently cast Full Body Bind.

"_Legilimens_," Draco Malfoy said, and he smiled cruelly.

Snape was going to regret having threatened him, for bruising Draco's pride and comparing him to his _father_. Oh yes, indeed. Snape was going to pay.


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56: The Dragon and the Prince**

Lily didn't understand why Sev was so irritated at her. He hadn't yet said something scathing and horrible, but she knew by the way that he walked, hunched over as though against a driving rainstorm, his hands shoved into his pockets and his chin down against his chest, that he was in a terrible mood and trying his best to subdue it.

The day was gray and overcast, but surprisingly pleasant, all things considered. Lily licked at a drop on the side of her ice cream cone that was threatening to escape. Mm, taste and texture was so indulgent. She ached to have a big burger and chips for lunch. She grinned hungrily, imagining the flavor. She quickly polished off the rest of the cone, licking her fingers where they'd become sticky. Being sticky seemed simply divine after being an insubstantial wisp for so long.

Sev was clearing his throat loudly as though to get her attention, and she rolled her eyes and turned her head with a little sniff, clearly broadcasting her feelings on his rudeness. He could be so bossy when he thought he knew better than everyone else. Wasn't she supposed to be the leader? Why did he have to change the way that they related to one another, anyway? It was better the way things used to be.

Lily contented herself with skipping ahead of her grumpy childhood friend, thrilling in how her body responded to her impulses. It was such a relief not to be floating insubstantiality and silent, to feel sensation on her skin, to be seen by others! She waved at an older woman with a handkerchief tied around her head and offered an impassioned "Good afternoon!" to a bearded man wearing a turban who was pushing a food cart that advertised cold drinks, crisps and sandwiches. She felt so excited about being visible, it felt like she was radiating more and more joyful energy each time someone acknowledged her.

She was bending down to look at some roses that were stubbornly blooming red against the chill in the air, when she found herself being grabbed roughly and pulled into a narrow space between the nearby buildings. She tried to scream, but a hand went over her mouth firmly and she heard Sev hiss in her ear to be silent, her body pressed up against his tightly and his cloak wrapped around them both as he held his wand overhead and ready to cast. If she wasn't still so irritated at his surly behavior towards him, it would have almost been erotic.

They heard nothing for a long moment, until Lily heard heavy, slapping footsteps as someone ran up the street where they had just been. A blurry figure sprinted by and then she heard the footsteps slow, then stop, and then the sound of the person who had been running taking deep gasping breaths.

Moving slowly together, they inched closer to the end of the narrow alley, and with a sudden silent flick of Sev's wand, a bright flash hit the still gasping figure full in the back, and he clattered to the ground as though turned to stone.

Lily felt him disentangle himself from her and run to the prone figure, pulling the body back to the alleyway. Lily could see at once who it was.

"What is Draco Malfoy doing following us?" Lily asked, her face drawing up in confusion.

"I am not certain, but _unfortunately_ for him, I intend to find out," Sev snarled, gleefully grateful for something on which to focus his foul mood as he raised his wand again.

* * *

"It seems that you are not progressing nearly as well as I had hoped," Voldemort hissed, trailing his cold, scaly fingers across Draco's jaw.

"I-I promise-I swear, I-" Draco sputtered, brought to silence with one sharp look from the red, blazing eyes of the Dark Lord.

"Ah, I suppose I should have expected this. How I forget that the young can be so inexperienced, and, dare I say, _innocent_?" Voldemort sighed as though he were simply talking about a failing mark on an exam and made a circular gesture with one of his hands.

Nagini curled herself around Draco's feet, looking at him intently. Draco gulped.

"Nagini is hungry," Voldemort said simply, "You will get her dinner. Go to the holding room. Use the Cruciatus Curse on the one of your choice until they break. It will make you stronger. A growing Death Eater _has_ to eat too, now doesn't he?"

He smiled, looking more reptilian than ever.

"You will _not_ use the Killing Curse...yet. You simply _must_ save your first time for your _target_. I want it to be special for you, Draco. You never forget your first time_._"

Draco stepped out of Nagini's massive coil and backed away, tripping slightly on the end of her tail as she hissed sharply and followed him.

"Now, now, Nagini," Voldemort said indulgently, as though she were his child and not a giant poisonous snake, "You are not to eat Draco. Not yet, anyway."

He laughed, then, and Draco's face looked positively green with fear as he hurried along towards the hallway, the massive snake following close on his heels.

* * *

"Silly little boy! You've got to _mean_ it! Let me show you!" laughed Bellatrix madly, as she pointed her crooked wand at the shuddering body on the floor and called out in a sing-song voice, "_Crucio! Crucio! Crucioooo!_"

Draco's face was ashen as the man screamed until all that came out were rasping coughs that were, if anything, more horrifying, as he twisted and clawed at his throat with bloody fingers.

"Go on, then, do that one," she said huskily, her eyes lit up intensely and rolling back into dark lidded eyes as she grasped her arm, the one with the Mark on it, as though she were in the throes of orgasm.

Draco turned and saw a girl, probably a few years younger than he was, cowering in the filthy corner, her eyes so wide that the whites seemed to take up more than was possible in her terrified face.

"What did she do?" Draco asked, his voice quiet and strained.

"Foolish child! We serve the Dark Lord! His direction is the only reason we need!" Bellatrix said, and she laughed cruelly, "But I'll humor you. These filthy traitors are from a half-blood family that tried to hide some of the mudblood filth in their attic! Our Lord thinks that they know of other houses, other families who are doing similar things. Sometimes in order to catch the chicken, you have to break a few eggs, don't you think?"

Draco appeared to be vaguely ill again.

"Draco, you need to stop thinking so much," Bellatrix sounded almost sympathetic now as she came close to him and looked up at him, her eyes wide, her voice still hinting of that sing-song cadence, "They're not like us. They are _less_ than us. Imposters with human faces. Just imagine her as a little itty bitty baby cockroach. Sure, they might seem harmless on their own, but they multiply like crazy and before you know it, you have your entire house falling down around your ears as they destroy everything you love! Imagine that, Draco! You're just helping us rid the world of the infestation! Now, come on! Before the Dark Lord thinks that you've lost your nerve. You just need to squish a little bitty cockroach. Just one."

"_C...Cru...Crucio_…" Draco pointed his wand at the nameless girl, wiping his eyes with the back of his other hand.

"You need to mean it, Draco!" Bellatrix said shrilly, "Come on! _CRUCIO_! It's not hard!"

"_Crucio_," he said, his eyes rimmed with red, his face set in a determined grimace.

The girl seemed to twitch momentarily, squeaking more in surprise than pain.

"No, see, let me show you," Bellatrix pointed her wand this time and shouted, "_Crucio!_"

The effect was instantaneous. The girl's body contorted in a wholly unnatural way, and an inhuman wail escaped her lips, sending Draco scurrying against the far wall and collapsing against it as his aunt cackled maniacally. But the worst thing wasn't when she stopped screaming and simply began frothing at the mouth as her eyes rolled back in her head. The worst part was when he clutched his arm and felt the power of her death, felt the _thing_ in his Mark feeding on it. It was even worse when it began to feel good, too good for words, and as he sat there in wide-eyed terror, watching Nagini unhinge her jaw and slide her maw up and over the twitching girl's ankles, a part of him wanted to run away. But the other part wanted to kill again, feel that intoxicating swell of power inside of him again. And he wasn't sure what was worse.

* * *

"They've been forcing him to cast Unforgivables," Severus said, frowning as he pulled himself from Draco's mind. He didn't need to elaborate on who _they_ were.

_I've never cared for Draco much, but that's totally barbaric!_

"I agree with Hermione," Lily said sympathetically as she looked down at the frozen boy, "It _is_ barbaric."

"They want him to feed his Mark," he replied darkly, "It gains strength for both the Marked as well as the Dark Lord when in the presence of suffering, pain and death. It also causes temporary fugues of madness and fanaticism that can become permanent after a prolonged time, but it can steal your own energy if you don't feed it often enough."

"Exactly why did you get one of these Mark thingies again, Sev?" Lily asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"For the same reason that most young people do stupid things," Severus replied softly, "I was angry, isolated and I wanted to be important..and _special_. I wanted someone to _notice_ me. And when someone did, someone with power, someone who even Dumbledore feared, it was _intoxicating_. The Dark Lord came across as a father figure, one who knew how to bring our world into a new and glorious era. It was hard not to feel like a revolutionary, someone who was looking ahead into a better tomorrow for the whole wizarding world. He even told me that once we destroyed the muggle world and put them in their rightful place, I could finally renounce my puke-stain of a father's surname and regain the honor of my mother's pure-blooded line. It was a lie, of course, but it was a pretty lie and I believed in it for far too long."

_Your mother was from a pure-blooded family?_

Lily translated Hermione's question and Severus nodded curtly.

"It does not matter now, though," he said sadly, "I noticed far too late that he was not looking for a glorious future of the powerful and just governing the weak at all. Of punishing largess and the cronies who exploit it. His desire for power and control know no bounds. No. What he wishes to create is nothing short of a kingdom where he rules as a living god, whose subjects exist to serve and please him."

"What should we do with him?" Lily asked, "Because I really wanted to have our day together, you know, just the two of us?"

_I know I've been trying to be silent here, but I'm here too!_

"Yes, Hermione, we're well aware that you're still there!" Lily said, exasperated.

"You do not need to be rude to Hermione, you know," Severus said, sneering slightly out of habit, "It is not her fault that Draco's shenanigans have put a damper on our day. I shall put you at ease, though. I just need to go back in his memories a little further and then I shall Obliviate as far as I need to and we will be on our way. Is that agreeable to you, Lily?"

Lily sniffed irritably as she wrinkled her nose and folded her arms, but she nodded.

Severus raised his wand again and looked back at Draco, still frozen on the gravel in the alleyway.

"_Legilimens_," he said firmly, and he peered back into Draco's mind.

* * *

Draco was standing outside of the twisted, narrow house at Spinner's End. His mother had given him the address, that much was clear- there was the small piece of parchment with the address written in Narcissa's unmistakable handwriting in his hand. He tried several times to knock on the door, threw rocks at the windows on the lowest floor, the usual hoodlum gestures that were fairly common in a neighborhood such as this, but were obviously futile. The house appeared as imposing and untouched as before, and Draco snarled in irritation.

There was a simultaneous CRACK that signalled someone Apparating from behind the house, and Draco tried to run around the side of the house to see where the noise had come from. The bushes obscured his vision almost completely, but he could see the movement of what seemed to be two figures going into the house. And, later, he had seen Severus leave the house with a girl that seemed familiar somehow- something about her eyes made him feel vaguely irritated. He knew that she didn't go to his school, but she still seemed rather young.

He followed them poorly- getting lost on one of the more twisted, busy streets. By the time he had reached the pharmacy and had _Stupefied_ the shopkeeper, using his barely adequate Occlumency skills to figure out that his quarry had just been there, he had fallen quite far behind. It was only by running full-tilt down the semi-deserted street that he thought he saw the tail of a familiar retreating black cloak turning the corner. He ran and ran until he stopped suddenly with a stitch in his side, catching his ragged breath when suddenly light and pain froze his sight.

* * *

The memory ended, and Severus drew back from Draco again. He pulled the wand from the boy's pocket and examined it. It wasn't Draco's wand, but this made sense, especially since Draco was still technically underage. Voldemort's ministry goons would probably keep any underage magic that Draco did from being punished anyway, it was still useful to use other wands from time to time. He couldn't allow the wand to be used again., He snapped the wand in half somewhat reluctantly and threw it to the side.

Death Eaters were notorious for stealing wands from their victims, often using the wands in compromising ways to implicate people or give families false hope that their loved ones were still alive, which always caused quite delicious suffering when they found out the truth. The wands weren't exactly as useful if they weren't won from their owners, but then again, that was why Voldemort spent so much time goading his followers into taking part in the torture and murder of their prisoners.

Carefully, he cast _Obliviate_ on the boy, blocking out the past day and a half of time and arranging the scene and scattering the meager belongings in Draco's pockets so that it looked as though he'd been jumped by a number of hooligans, which was actually fairly likely in this part of town. He incinerated the parchment with his address on it wordlessly. As a final touch to make the whole scenario believable, he punched Draco on the side of the face hard enough to raise a sizable goose-egg. It felt better than it should have felt to strike a student, but then again, Severus felt very justified in doing so. Not only was Draco running around with ridiculous revenge schemes in his head (and after he had offered to HELP him and forced him to SWEAR on his family name, no less!), but he was being pushed into Dark magic that could send Draco down the same mad path as Bellatrix.

"Ugh," he moaned, pulling up to his full height from where he had been bent over Draco, finishing the scene, "I am famished and sore. Do you have an idea of where you would like to go for lunch, Lily?"

Lily immediately brightened up. It had been difficult to find something to do with herself while Sev was making all the preparations. Hermione had been whispering to her a bit about various things, including how this was probably not nearly as horrible as when Draco had attempted to murder them, but Lily still felt uncomfortable, especially when she saw Sev punch the stationary boy out of the corner of her eye. She just wanted to leave and have her happy, perfect day. Was that too much to ask?

"I'm thinking burgers," she said, her mouth watering, "Big, juicy burgers and thick, golden, steak-cut chips."

"Shall we?" Severus gave her his arm and she took it, giggling at the gentlemanly gesture.

With a CRACK, they vanished from the alley just as Draco groaned, beginning to move again and his hand went to the lump on his head in confusion.

"Fuck! Where am I?" he said, rubbing his injury gingerly, his thoughts still heavily disoriented.

A crow landed on the dumpster behind him, making him jump. It cawed loudly at him and he threw a rock at it, missing it completely in his dizziness.

"What the fuck was I doing here anyway?" he asked himself, and something shifted uncomfortably in his belly when he realized that he had _absolutely no idea_, and when his eyes finally alighted upon the broken wand on the ground near his foot, the alley filled with the sound of half-sobbed swearing.


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57: A Perfect Day**

"I'm so full, I feel like I will never need to eat again!" Lily said, rubbing her stomach contentedly, as they exited the restaurant where they had spent more than an hour taming the raging hunger that had seemed to intensify as soon as the tantalizing scent of sizzling meat and frying potatoes had reached their respective noses.

"Well, you did just eat a massive hamburger, a plate of chips plus half of mine, and a strawberry milkshake!" Severus said, his amused tone belying his harsh words.

"Says the man who ate a Monster Burger with three patties, onions, lettuce, extra cheese and drowned it in sauce!" Lily replied goodnaturedly. She had far more patience when her stomach didn't feel as though it were folding in upon itself.

"I should think that you would have known that I would take you to my favorite burger place, Lily, especially since you probably have been here with me before, though in a much more insubstantial form," he smiled as he remembered the first time he had visited Monsterburger, and how pleasantly surprised he had been that an eatery that Hagrid had suggested could serve food that was so delicious.

"To be honest, I spent a lot of time bored out of my mind with no one to talk to. And between you and I, I did a lot of sleeping," Lily said, shrugging, "It was simply awful having to watch everyone eating and having a good time, knowing that I couldn't interact with anyone or anything at all. Even the ghosts ignored me, though I think that Nearly Headless Nick once glanced in my direction."

They turned off the main thoroughfare and towards a riverfront walkway, both grateful for the walk, though Severus had to shorten his stride a little so that Lily didn't have to jog to keep up.

"If only I had known," Severus said sadly, after they had walked awhile in silence, "I thought you were gone forever, that I had no chance to be redeemed or make things right between us. Even if you never...returned my affection."

"I have to be honest with you, Sev," Lily replied, "When I was little...meeting you, sharing magic with you...something told me that we were meant to be together, that you would always protect me and that one day...well...we would be together in another way than just as friends. Why else would I have wanted to try the _Anima Voti_ vow with you? I mean, I had some idea about what it meant even then, but Hermione was doing research on it and she told me that before there were formal spells in Wizarding Law for marriage, the _Anima Voti_ was often used by couples that wished to share a connection that was considered just as deep as what one might call true love."

Lily seemed to realize what she was saying and she blushed a deep crimson as she looked up at her childhood friend, who was still so much taller and now also older than her, even though they had been in the same year at school.

"I don't mean to be weird and mushy or anything!" she said, her voice wavering in embarrassment.

"Lily, you can be as mushy as you want," he smirked as she noticed that his cheeks had also taken on a reddish glow, and it wasn't just a trick of the light as the sun set steadily behind the gray clouds, "After all, who am I to stop you from speaking your mind? I had it beaten out of me so early on. I don't remember what it's like to be open and carefree the way you are. It drew me to you, you know, that limitless joy that radiated out of you like sunshine. I guess I took it for granted that I would always be able to see you, even if we were in difference Houses. And when things finally came to a head...I was too proud and stupid to stop myself from saying and doing things to push you away. It is almost as though I am a perfect example of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The very thing I treasured most-our relationship-lost because I could not control the darkness in my heart."

"Severus," Lily breathed quietly, turning around to face him.

"I sometimes wonder if I am dreaming," he continued, "That you are here, that we are sharing this time together...I only wish that I could promise that the time ahead won't be hard or painful, though I know that to say such a thing would be a lie."

"And you've never been much of a liar, Sev, at least when it comes to me," Lily said, her voice breathless, and he noticed that she had moved her finger to his lips to trace around them. He closed his eyes, shivering at the sensation.

"Li-" he began and he felt her lips on his, and the rest of his words caught in his throat as she reached her thin fingers around the back of his head and laced his hair through them, pulling him down to her, her other hand under his chin, tipping it up and to the side just a little and she explored his mouth with her sweet tongue, feeling him shudder and relax into her touch.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he was so close to her that he could see the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, barely noticeable at a normal distance. Her eyelashes fluttered against him as she opened them, staring up, her pupils huge in the dying light.

After a final brush of her lips against his, she pulled back, her hands cupping him on both sides of his jaw, and she smiled in that achingly familiar way, the one that told him that everything would be all right, that the world could not be cruel forever, and her smile was proof that there were better things out there than pain and cruelty. He also realized with a start, that he could almost see the superimposed image of Hermione over that smile- she too had a fondness for forming her lips in an almost exact replica of that smile- and he wondered if maybe after all this time in the same body, they were both taking on certain aspects of the other. The prospect worried him, but he also felt a warm twist of desire growing within him again.

"Your heart was never full of darkness," she whispered so that only he could hear her, "It is the world that is full of darkness. You simply learned that lesson earlier than everyone else, and you did what you could to protect yourself."

"But, I called you..._that word_," his breath shuddered as he tried to banish the memory that rose in his head unbidden.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Lily said softly, "Exactly _why_ do you deserve to be punished forever for something you said when you were, what, fifteen? For things you did in your youth? Exactly _why_ should you have to suffer for the duration of your life because you've made mistakes? Hermione was reading a history book the other day that mentioned Gellert Grindelwald, and it included a passage about how Dumbledore refused to battle him at first, even though Grindelwald was killing people and causing havoc everywhere. Should Dumbledore be forced to take on the blame for the actions of others? Should he be punished forever for his own mistakes?"

"But maybe I _deserve_…." he trailed off, his stomach aching with the unsaid words.

"Maybe you just have to understand that _no one deserves anything_," Lily replied and her soft words were fierce, "There are no rules that say that good people deserve good things or that bad things only happen to those who are inherently evil. We're all just born randomly into our circumstances. I know you want to feel like there was some sort of overarching justification, a reason you can pinpoint as the counterbalance for your suffering, but there just...isn't."

Her hands were sliding back and around his neck and she pulled him into her chest, hugging him until he felt like he couldn't breathe, but even then, he didn't pull away until she relaxed her grasp. She saw the impassive expression he wore out of habit crack a little, the tiny lines softening around his eyes and mouth as something seemed to open, change, and he shivered as she felt that cool wisp of power stir and rise from him, caressing her skin with insubstantial fingers. And as he stared silently down at her with those dark, unreadable eyes of his, she felt herself shiver as well, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Let's go," she said, and she smiled wickedly, biting her lip a little, "I think you need a lesson in what _I _think you deserve."


	58. Chapter 58

**;) It's that time again….time for….sexytime!**

**Chapter 58: Undone**

_CRACK_.

Lily steadied herself; her arm was linked tightly around Sev's black wool sleeve and for one long moment, she was sure she was going to vomit at the sensation of having Apparated again, but the feeling died away quickly and after he checked with her to make sure she was feeling all right, she found that suddenly his lips were on hers, and before she rightly knew what she was doing, she was pushing back against him, feeling his power pressing against hers as their bodies entwined.

It was an awkward walk to the back door of the house, but they managed, neither wanting to leave hold of the other, his hands running down her back as he spoke the strange words to open the door, his voice husky as he forced himself to pull away from her lips. They tumbled through the threshold and he slammed the door shut with a foot, grabbing Lily suddenly and leaning her backwards, using his other arm to swoop under her legs, lifting her up in his arms.

"S-Sev!" Lily exclaimed, her face turning a deep red, "What do you think you're-"

He was kissing her again, carrying her as though she weighed nothing up the stairs at a fluid pace, and she marveled at the soft sound of his cloak as it whispered against the narrow walls of the stairway behind them.

"If you remember, this morning you told me that the end of your perfect day was located in my bed," he said softly, his voice thick with lust as he stared down at her, his eyes half-open in a daze, "Did I misinterpret your words?"

Lily looked away in embarrassment, and made a small _tch_ noise. It was hard to say such embarrassing things when Sev was saying them first.

He froze on the upstairs landing, still holding her in both arms against his chest and looked down at her quietly as she worked up the courage to speak.

"I…." she said haltingly, then nodded, unable to say anything further.

In a blur, she felt herself being swept through a doorway and set softly onto a yielding surface- a bed…_.his bed. _Immediately, she was enveloped in black cloth as he pressed his weight against her, the inertia of his movement giving her the feeling of sinking into his body.

"Oh, how I want you," he said softly, the words slurring into one another as they passed through his lips.

He was stroking her hair as he caught himself and paused momentarily, nose to nose, before kissing her once again, the heat of his need evident in the urgency that he conveyed in each touch, in the pressure of his lips to hers, mirroring the feeling rising within her, as she arched her body instinctively against his own. She fumbled with the clasp at his neck, undoing the catch and feeling the heavy, black cloak fall away behind him.

She brushed a strand of his hair to the side, looking into his eyes as he leaned into her touch, kissing her fingers.

"Sev, wait-" she gasped, and he stopped, looking at her seriously.

"Yes?" he said so quietly that, had she not seen his lips moving, she would have doubted he had said anything at all.

"Is it really _me_ that you want?" she said, her heart feeling as though it were in her throat, "I need to know. You're not...just doing this for..._her_...are you?"

"Lily…" he breathed her name against her cheek, and she felt herself want to let go, to stop being infuriating and ruining her perfect day.

But she could no more let something go easily than she knew Hermione could give up doing in-depth extended research before an exam.

"I mean it," she said loudly, pulling herself up into a stting position and pulling off the thermal sweatshirt violently, "Do you want this- these breasts, this neck, these lips, this face? Do you want this body, this PERSON? Or am I simply a gateway to your love for..well, you know."

_What are you getting at?_

"SHUT UP!" Lily half-sobbed, and Hermione's whispery voice disappeared almost instantly, though she could hear a small, broken noise in her ear.

"Lily, I thought that you understood," he looked stricken, still leaning over her but allowing space between them now, "With both of you like this, it is hard to separate my feelings for the two of you. I will be the first to say that I do not consider myself the sort of person who allows my heart to be divided, but the circumstances of your situation...it just happened, and now I find that I cannot stop myself from feeling love towards both of you. When I say that I love Hermione, I am not saying that I love you less or that the depth of my affection for you is somehow cheapened. And when I say that I love you, Lily, it is not to relegate Hermione to nothing."

"Sev, I...I just don't want to go away, I don't want to be forgotten, like I don't matter...like I _never_ mattered," Lily said sadly.

"How can I prove how much you matter to me?" he replied, his eyes sad, "I want _you_, I want to move inside of you, to hold you to me, to spend many more perfect days in the future together. But there are bad times coming too. There will be hardship and suffering. There will be separation. There will be times we are at odds with one another. This is not just about how _I_ feel. This is how we feel _together_."

Lily's eyes widened, and she realized what he meant. This wasn't just about his desire, his love. And she realized, in her heart of hearts, that she was terrified that she would lose the only person who knew her as well as she knew herself. And part of her wanted to run away, if only to avoid the possibility of being hurt first. She steeled herself, her heart thudding in her chest like a drum, and she closed the distance between them.

"I just...I want you so much that I think I might scream," she said finally, "I couldn't bear it if you didn't feel the same."

"It appears that I need to give you a lesson in what _I_ think _you_ deserve, then?" Severus was using the same phrase that she had used before, and she felt herself pulse with heat in the implication of his words.

He was grabbing her tightly, kissing her down the side of her neck and along her collarbone the way she liked best. He knew this because she always responded with a sharp intake of breath, and he reveled in the way her pleasure excited him. He unhooked her bra, which was technically Hermione's bra and therefore a bit too large for Lily's frame, and it was tossed to the side so that he could massage her breasts, kissing and licking in the places that made her twitch and moan as she grabbed fistfuls of sheets and writhed against the sensation as he moved down her stomach and kissed her along the top of her jeans where her pubic bone met her belly.

"Please, Sev," she moaned as he unbuttoned the jeans, sliding them over her hips and off of her legs in a single motion. He rubbed his hand against the heat of her panties, feeling her grind a little against his touch and he smiled with excitement at what he was doing to her body, how she responded to his touch. When he finally pulled the thin cloth off of her, she was unconsciously bucking her hips against the air, her chest and face flushed with arousal, and he could barely contain himself, color rising to his face and spreading a warm, frantic heat throughout his body.

Standing up, he pulled his wand without another word and wordlessly cast some kind of spell that appeared to remove his clothing almost instantaneously, turning cloth into a dark smoke that rolled off his body only to coalesce on the floor as clothing again.

"I have been meaning to try that one. What do you think of it? I just finished it recently," he whispered huskily, and she thrilled at the feeling of his bare skin against hers. She could only moan in reply as he slid up against her, and she felt his erection against her thigh, her fingers automatically moving down to trace the shape of it, to rub her palm against its firmness, and feel small stabs of joy in her stomach at his response.

When he slid into her, she couldn't help but cry out, and she covered her mouth a second too late, blushing even darker when he grinned a very un-Sev-like grin as his movements inspired similar little cries as they moved together. Something about his utter joy in making her feel such pleasure gave way to a pleasurable glowing sensation that built through her body like a wave of heat and light, and growing in intensity as he bottomed out inside of her, becoming frantic, unstoppable and sweet. When she could not hold herself back any longer, she felt her hips moving quickly with an almost mindless speed as she tightened and came hard, his eyes widening as the undulations of her release brought him over the edge into a release of his own.

"Sev," she said, as she felt herself beginning to slip from physical being, feeling exquisitely spent and tired, "I just want you to know that-"

_I will stay with you until the very end._

As Hermione's familiar tangle of hair spread across the sheets and her sleeping form materialized underneath him, Severus looked somewhat puzzled. He wondered what Lily had been trying to tell him, and resolved to ask when he had the chance. Feeling sweaty and spent, he decided that it was probably a good idea to get himself cleaned up and start on dinner, as Hermione would need to be home within another hour or two. He covered her sleeping form in a blanket, feeling uncharacteristically giddy in the thick scent of sex that still filled the air of the room, and as she shifted in her sleep, he wondered if it were possible for his heart to be any fuller with his love for both of them.


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59: Drop In**

Hermione sat on the cold plastic seat, feeling sweaty under her coat and scarf. She'd taken off her mittens and hat, but she could still feel a small drop of perspiration dripping down the small of her back and she fought the urge to scratch it. The clinic was a couple blocks from the bus depot, which is why she had chosen it. While she did have her own family doctor that had seen her since she was an infant, Hermione did not want her parents to accidentally find out about what she was about to do.

"Her-me-own? Granger? Her-me-own-ee?" called the nurse, squinting at the clipboard in her hand.

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up, walking over to the nurse, whose short red bob appeared to have been expertly styled and fell like reddish straight silk around her ears.

"It's Her-My-Oh-Knee," she sighed in the resigned tone of someone who has had to instruct others on how to properly pronounce her name on a regular basis.

"Yes, well," the nurse looked Hermione up and down with a look of disdain and a slight sneer, "Come this way, I need to take your weight and height."

After her basic vitals had been taken, the nurse handed Hermione a sterile cup with a screw top attached and told her to go to the small bathroom and fill it up at least halfway with urine. Hermione stormed with embarrassment over to the small door and did as she had been instructed, leaving the sample with her name written on it in black marker on a small tray marked "SAMPLES."

Somehow, waiting in the actual exam room was more nerve-wracking than the waiting room itself. Part of her was seriously wishing that she'd waited for Severus to come with her, but when she had messaged him with her bead the evening before, he sent back a short message to notify her that he'd been summoned to see the Dark Lord, and wasn't sure when he would be back. Christmas Eve would be in two day's time, and only the emergency rooms would be open. Drop-in clinics like this tended to serve mostly the poor and homeless, but they tended to be closed during holidays because they did not provide essential emergency services. So she'd made yet another excuse to her parents and set off on the bus herself that morning. Her mother had told her to be back that evening for their family tradition of baking cookies for the neighbors, so she knew she'd have to get there early before the drop in appointments filled up.

The doctor who came in was a young Indian woman with bright, friendly eyes, her long black hair tied back into a loose ponytail. Hermione was instantly relieved that she didn't have a male doctor as she sat on the exam table, feeling the paper under her crinkle as she shifted.

"Hello," the doctor said warmly, with a decidedly American accent as she shook Hermione's hand, "I am Dr. Gil. I'm the clinic's OBGYN. And before you ask, yes, I used to live in the States. I moved here with my husband. And I apologize in advance if I get any of my medical terms wrong- if you're confused, please ask so I can clarify. Apparently English in America is quite a bit different. Anyway! I see on the chart that you took two pregnancy tests and found that they were positive. I have confirmed this with your sample. The chart mentions that you haven't had a period for some time. Is there a reason that you didn't suspect anything until recently?"

Hermione knew she couldn't say "magic" but she decided on the next best thing. She was glad that her mother had kept medical textbooks from before she'd decided to go into dentistry.

"I, er..was taking the Pill," she said, her face reddening, "I have really bad periods so I was advised by my normal doctor to just start on the next month's supply instead of taking the week's worth of sugar pills."

"I...see…" Dr. Gil was inspecting the notes further, "And you're 17? I suppose that you are hoping that your parents will not be made aware of this situation, which is why you came to see me, correct?"

Hermione looked away, her eyes suddenly stinging, and Dr. Gil put a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"As a doctor, I am bound by a confidentiality agreement. I will never share any of this information with anyone else, not even your parents. Now, how would you like to see what's going on in there? I just need to get the proper equipment and we'll be ready. If you could please just undress from the waist down and wrap this paper sheet around yourself, I will be right back with the equipment."

Hermione nodded quietly, breathing deeply to try and hold back the tears that were threatening to pour from her eyes. After the doctor had left, she felt a little more at ease. She removed her coat and scarf, then slipped out of her pants and underwear, folding them carefully on the table next to the exam bed. Then she unfolded the paper sheet that she'd been given and draped it over her legs. It felt good to have something to do with her hands.

She almost jumped when she heard a knock on the door and Dr. Gil came in with an older woman with white, curly hair and thick glasses, who was pushing a machine on a wheeled trolley, a thick, boxy monitor sitting at the top of it with a tiny, black screen.

"Ok, so I'll need you to lay back and put your legs up in the stirrups," the doctor instructed as she fiddled with the table and Hermione heard the sound of something metal unfolding with a squeak, "I promise, this won't be very uncomfortable."

"What are you going to do?" Hermione said uncomfortably, feeling more exposed than ever.

"Oh! Let me set your mind at ease," Dr Gil said lightly, "Since you're not yet showing, I'm just going to place this lubed up ultrasound wand inside of you so it can see the fetus inside of your body. Sandy here is going to do some secondary calculations and together we'll figure out how far along you are, ok?"

"And what do we do after that?" Hermione gulped nervously.

"Depending on the age of the fetus, we'll discuss your options," Dr. Gil said kindly, "I'm very proud of you for coming in, Hermione. I see a lot of pregnancies for the first time when the woman is already in labor. That can be dangerous for both the woman and her baby."

Hermione laid back, trying not to think about what Dr. Gil was doing between her legs, and when she felt a weird, warm pressure inside of her, she stiffened a little.

"All right, you're doing great," Dr. Gil said gently, "Now, let's see if we can find...ah! There! If you want to look, the screen is over to your left."

Hermione felt a morbidly curious urge overtake her, even though her stomach was doing somersaults, and she turned her head.

The screen looked a bit like an x-ray, with the majority of the screen being black. A small, bulbous form that looked like a potato attached to some small wiggly appendages was floating around in the blackness of the screen. It was incredibly surreal.

_That's...a baby?_

Hermione was inclined to agree with Lily's skepticism, but she said nothing.

"All right, well, I'd estimate the age of the fetus to be around sixteen weeks, or almost four months," Dr. Gil said slowly, "What do you think, Sandy?"

Sandy pushed her glasses up on her nose slightly and then did some calculations. She nodded in agreement with the doctor. Dr. Gill pushed a couple buttons and a long scroll of paper printed out.

"Give or take a week or so, I'd say that's pretty accurate, Dr. Gil. I'd estimate her due date to be in mid June, probably the 12th or the 13th," Sandy said, her voice somewhat like a kindly grandmother, and Hermione felt deeply uncomfortable again, thinking about what her parents would say if they knew what she was doing.

"Thank you, Sandy," Dr. Gil said, and she removed the ultrasound wand, wrapping it in a paper towel. The older woman wheeled the machine out of the room, and Hermione waited for the door to the exam room to close completely before she spoke again.

"Is that all you need me to do?" Hermione asked timorously, "I feel kind of...drippy."

"That's fine with me," Dr. Gil said gently, "But I need to finish your consultation, so please come back to this room when you're done. I can also offer you some pictures, if you'd like them."

_Hermione, you should keep at least one and show it to Sev so he knows._

Hermione felt uncomfortable about the idea of carrying around evidence of her pregnancy, but she realized with a bit of a thrill in her stomach that she _did_ want them, that it was the proof that her body was doing something amazing, something that she'd _made together_ with Severus. She went to the bathroom, feeling like she had to use almost all the toilet paper to deal with the excess lubrication that had been used for the ultrasound. When she finally felt normal again, she put on her clothing again and returned to the exam room.

Dr. Gil was sitting at a small chair, writing on Hermione's chart.

"Hi," Hermione said to the woman, who seemed very engrossed in writing notes.

"Hello Hermione, I'll be ready for you in a moment," Dr. Gil said distractedly.

She took a seat back on the exam table, noticing that the tissue paper had been replaced. The paper seemed to stick to her jeans, and she felt markedly uncomfortable.

"So," Dr. Gil said, turning to face Hermione, "I have done the calculations and at this time, if you tried to schedule a termination with our office, the first opening would be available a few weeks after you allowed to have non-medically necessary termination. That said, if you would like to pursue a medically-necessary termination, I could schedule a couple of other tests. In any case, I'll need to schedule some more tests for you as well, to check your body for various infections, metabolic issues or genetic abnormalities in the fetus."

Hermione gulped. This made the whole situation uncomfortably real.

"Are you thinking of carrying to term?" Dr. Gil said softly.

"I don't know," Hermione said, her voice cracking a little, "I mean, a part of me wants to, but another part of me knows that this is a terrible time for me to be dealing with this stuff."

"Will the father of your baby support you?" Dr. Gill asked, her voice even, "What about your parents? Other family members? Friends? Raising a baby can be very stressful and time consuming, not to mention expensive. It is your choice, obviously, but if you're considering keeping this pregnancy, I'll also get you some pamphlets on various organizations and programs that can help you out if you are struggling."

Hermione looked at the floor. She couldn't think of anything to say.

"I'll leave the ultrasound printouts on the table," Dr. Gil said gently, "You can choose whether or not to take them with you. I'll leave the test orders at the front desk. I wish you luck. You can always come back and schedule an appointment with me if you'd like. I'll be happy to help you with whatever course of action you decide to take. You can take your time in here. I have two other exam rooms that I can use for patients."

Hermione sat in the exam room for another half an hour composing herself, thinking of what she was going to say to Severus when she saw him again, how she was going to maintain a facade of normalcy around her friends and family and above all how she was going to survive having to get her blood drawn. Hermione didn't let many people know how phobic she was of needles, but it generally didn't come up in conversation, and the wizarding world had its own way of administering medications and diagnosing ailments. But there would be no way to keep this a secret from Dumbledore _or_ Voldemort if she went to St. Mungo's.

When she felt that she was as calm as she was going to be, all things considered, she got to her feet and grabbed her coat, scarf and her messenger bag. Before she could overthink it too much, she hastily grabbed the long printout of small photos that Dr. Gil had left on the counter and stuffed them inside one of her books in her bag to keep the thin material from getting bent. Then she walked with measured steps towards the lobby, hoping that the lab technicians would at least get a vein on their first try.


	60. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60: Summoned**

Malfoy Manor looked creepy and deserted, even in the daylight. Severus told himself that it was just because of the barrier that was around the property to keep anyone who wasn't supposed to be there from wandering in, but the curdled feeling of doom in his stomach didn't lessen even after he passed easily through the barrier as the gates opened silently and he strode into the gardens surrounding the opulent house.

One of the Malfoy family's strange, albino peacocks was strutting across the grass. He kicked a clod of dirt at it, watching the stupid thing flatten out its tail and run idiotically away as though pursued by hellhounds. For a moment, Severus imagined doing the same, but then his Mark prickled as though his arm had fallen asleep, and he steeled himself to enter the main doors to the manor. He didn't want to keep the Dark Lord waiting.

The house seemed eerily quiet as he entered, his footsteps echoing in the hallway madly as though he were being followed. He kept one of his hands tucked into his cloak, clutching his wand in his hidden hand. Years of being caught unawares by pranks and cruel jokes in school, and the more cruel ministrations of his fellow Death Eaters who still gave him trouble for having been born half-blooded had made him rightfully cautious. Especially with Bellatrix and the Carrow siblings out of Azkaban and likely in residence somewhere within these walls.

He paused before opening the door to the drawing room, which had become a favorite place for the Dark Lord due to its size, large fireplace and regal picture windows. The manor at large was exactly the sort of place where Voldemort would have lived himself had he still been the man he had been before with the wealth and connections that entailed. The Dark Lord loved to live in lavish excess, which was one of the main reasons he had decided upon Malfoy Manor as his base of operations. There were plenty of rooms for him to place Death Eaters so that they would be at his beck and call. There were also many outbuildings and underground hidden rooms to put people for questioning, torture or worse. Lucius had even once joked that he'd had an abattoir installed at some point, and Severus was not sure if this was simply Lucius being overly melodramatic or if the man's confession had a grain of truth to it.

He opened the heavy door and swept quickly into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The outline of a tall figure stood at the far end of the room, facing the fireplace and backlit in an ominous fashion.

"My Lord," he said, sweeping down on one knee and bowing his head. Many of the other Death Eaters were far less formal with Voldemort, but Severus knew that it was one of the aspects that Voldemort appreciated about his Hogwarts spy. Besides, it was useful sometimes, to appear weak and servile. If the Dark Lord thought someone beneath him, he would often expect no resistance, no fight. Appearing weak was just another tool that Severus had used to survive, and he hoped that it would not come back to destroy him in the end.

"Ah, Severusssss," the man turned, his red eyes bright like freshly spilled blood, "I have been expecting you. I trust that the old man isn't working you too hard?"

"Just the same cryptic nonsense of an old love-obsessed fool and obnoxious students with their utter lack of ability at defending competently against the Dark Arts," Severus said dismissively, allowing his face to curl into the sneering, pinched bitterness that he was finding harder and harder to maintain as he spent more time experiencing actual happiness, "I can only hope that you gain your rightful place in the Wizarding World soon, as I can barely stand to look at the old fogey without wanting to vomit, much less have a civil conversation with him. And I cannot even begin to tell you of the lack of brains I have encountered in some of my classes. With few exceptions, most of them are practically pigs for the slaughter. The only hope they'd have of scaring off a Dark Wizard would be by showing off their abysmal grades!"

"It will not be much longer," Voldemort smiled in a manner that was meant to be friendly, but he looked more like a snake about to unhinge its jaw, "You have been so patient for me, Severus, so loyal. I wanted to give you a gift. That is what everyone does at Christmas, isn't it? I've been...out of commission for awhile, so perhaps it is old-fashioned of me. But I want you to understand that I am aware that you have sacrificed much to stay in place, waiting for my return. So, I present to you….your gift!"

The Dark Lord drew his wand, gesturing to a closet door, and it flew open at once, a sharp, splintering dragging noise as a chair with a person tied into it was pulled into the room over the stone floor. Severus looked at the figure as it grew closer and his eyes widened.

It was _Lily_.

No, wait. It wasn't _his_ Lily. The Lily tied in the chair before him was wide-eyed and gagged, and she seemed somewhat older than the one who he knew was still tied to Hermione.

"Remember that bag I gave you right after I returned? Did you ever open it?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowing as he grinned conspiratorially.

"I must confess, My Lord, I only glanced inside," Severus said with a neutral expression, "The contents were very precious, and I did not wish for them to be exposed to the outside elements any longer than they needed to be."

"I came up with this little gift myself," Voldemort said, turning and grabbing s small goblet of wine from the table behind him, "I kept some of her hair and added it to Polyjuice Potion to transform anyone I wished into the visage of your lost love. It's poetic genius, don't you think? I did not wish to kill her, after all, and in some way, I've brought her back for you. In fact, I wouldn't put it past old Dumbledore himself to have told her that she HAD to sacrifice herself. He _is_ in the habit of killing good people to serve his ends. If you wish to blame anyone in this world, you should blame him."

"Who is that?" Severus asked, glaring at the figure dubiously, "Under the potion, I mean. I do not wish to be bitten or attacked by my...present, though your sentiment is gracious beyond words."

"Ah, that's the best part, Severus," Voldemort said indulgently in his cruel, high voice, "All it takes is a bit of the Imperius Curse, and you've got your perfect little sex slave. Just for the night, of course. The potion should wear off after midnight."

"You are far too gracious, My Lord," he bowed again, looking over at the Fake-Lily in the chair with what he hoped looked like desire, though he felt queasy inside.

"Go on, then," Voldemort said, grinning wider and wider as he spoke, "Unwrap your present and take her with you to the unused room upstairs. Second door on your right. I'm certain that she will be everything you dreamed about and more. Of course, I don't advise taking off the gag, but to each his own, eh? You may be excused."

"My Lord," Severus said again, and he untied the figure from the chair, pointing his wand as Voldemort watched.

"Imperio," he said, and he was unable to stop himself from sounding a little weary when he said it.

The Fake-Lily's eyes glazed over and when he ordered her to follow him, she did exactly as she was told.

"Excellent, Severus," Voldemort said excitedly, "Aren't you ever so pleased with my gift? It is perfect!"

"My Lord," he said evenly, "What might I bring for one such as yourself who has everything? I do not wish to offend. You are obviously a difficult man to buy for as there are few things matching your esteem and excellence."

The Dark Lord preened at the flattering words.

"Oh, Severus, you always know exactly what to say to remind me of how magnificent I am. It is one of the only things I must say I never tire of hearing. The short answer is that I only wish for your happiness, your loyalty, your undying allegiance. For Christmas and for every day. I wish for you to belong to me in every way that you can pledge yourself. Though," Voldemort laughed, and it was a hissing, serpentine sound, "I do not wish to share your bed, hence your very own Lily. When your life is mine to command as I see fit, I will require no other offering from you."

"It has always been, and so shall it always be until my dying breath," Severus bowed his head, grabbing the Fake-Lily by the hand, "If you do not mind, I shall take my leave to...enjoy...my gift appropriately."

"Merry Christmas, Severus," the Dark Lord made no motion to close the distance between them, but Severus had the distinct impression that he wished to give the younger man a hug.

"Merry Christmas, My Lord," he replied, and he with a flourish of one of his hands and a last bow of submission, he exited the room with the girl in tow.

"Oh, why can't more of my followers be more like Severus?" Voldemort asked the empty room, sitting back into one of the leather armchairs near the fire with his goblet of wine, taking small sips and staring at the dancing flames.

* * *

_Author's Note: Anyone want to guess who got Polyjuiced by the Dark Lord? I wonder what Severus is going to do? Stay tuned!_


	61. Chapter 61

**Chapter 61: The Melancholy of Mrs. Malfoy**

"Severus!" The voice hissed at him from the shadows under the staircase.

He drew his wand, ready for a fight. Instead, the figure that stepped out into the dim light was the opposite of intimidating, and he felt himself shudder in revulsion at the sight before him.

Narcissa Malfoy had deep, dark rings around her eyes as though she hadn't slept since he had seen her last when she had pressured him into making The Unbreakable Vow. For all he knew, she hadn't. Her hair was wild and matted, and she was wrapped in a formless gray cloak, moving somewhat erratically as she approached him. She looked up at him with wide, slightly hysterical eyes.

"You promised that you'd keep him safe!" she hissed fiercely, "How are you still alive when he came home the other day covered in blood and bruises?"

"I did not vow to follow your son around like his personal valet and wait on him hand and foot while he is out of school," he replied with a sneer. Being in the prescence of the Dark Lord for any length of time helped make it easier for him to put on his customary sour demeanor.

"The Dark Lord has punished my Draco!" Narcissa whimpered brokenly, "The wand he had was snapped in half and so he took the Knight Bus home and...the Dark Lord was so angry! I only got to see him for a moment before those horrible Carrows grabbed him and pulled him into the drawing room. I haven't seen him since!"

Her eyes were wild and wounded as they darted around suspiciously, as though she were worried that she would summon the creepy Death Eater siblings whose behavior towards one another always seemed a bit more friendly than mere familial bond.

The thought sent a wave of disgust through Severus as well, and he only barely suppressed the shiver of revulsion that bubbled up inside of him.

"I have only just spoken with the Dark Lord," he said, finally, trying to keep his tone even so Narcissa would not go into hysterics, "He did not mention any change in the plan. Which means that..your son..is still expected to fulfill his duty."

A look of desperate relief washed over her face, and for the first time, she noticed the young woman following silently behind him.

"Who is she?" Narcissa asked suspiciously, "She looks...familiar."

"The Dark Lord's Christmas present," he said darkly, "A token for my service to him. Service that, may I remind you, is also demanded of your husband as well as your son. I also carry scars for when my service was...less than adequate. The Dark Lord does not kill that which he feels he can make useful. You should understand that, Narcissa. How exactly has he been making use of you?"

She reeled back, clutching the cloak around her body more tightly and her eyes avoided his.

"That is no concern of yours," she spat, and he could see the beginning of a purple welt on the side of her neck where her hair had fallen to the side and the cloth of the cloak did not cover.

"For what it's worth," he replied, trying to sound as dispassionate as possible, "The Dark Lord is readying his final plans. I do not expect that he will have need of this place for much longer."

He pushed past Narcissa, the girl shuffling unevenly behind him as though in a trance, and began to climb the stairs.

"Oh, and Narcissa?" he continued, not bothering to turn back and look at the huddled shape standing in the gloom by the foot of the stairs, "Do try not to die before you can see the fruits of your son's labors. After all, he has been quite adamant that he has a simply _amazing_ plan and has informed me that he does not want any help from me."

He thought that he heard a suppressed howl of terror as he reached the second floor landing, but when he peered down through the gloom where Narcissa had been, the hallway was empty.


	62. Chapter 62

**Chapter 62: The Imposter**

The tall, black wooden door shut silently behind him and Severus pointed to a velvet chair near the window, the thick drapes still partially drawn so that the drab winters light outside only cast a small amount of light in the room. It was a well-furnished room, but in a general sort of way. It was obviously meant to be a guest room. There appeared to be discolored shapes on the wallpaper where items had once adorned the walls and where items once stood but had been taken, spots bereft of dust on shelves and end tables. Severus smiled ruefully. The Death Eaters might be loyal to the Dark Lord, but there were more than a few who would have no problem helping themselves to a bit of the Malfoy family's opulence as long as no one was looking.

Silently, he cast a _Muffilatio_ spell over the door and, once he was certain that there were no prying eyes or ears in the room itself, he turned around, his face in a familiar scowl.

The Fake Lily was sitting on the chair, her back rigidly at attention, as though she were a life sized poseable doll. He untied the gag around her mouth, and looked sternly at her.

"Tell me your name," he said, severely, crossing his arms.

Those familiar green eyes were spacey and almost vacant as a distinctly non-Lily voice escaped her lips.

"Can't. Dark...Lord...promised...not to hurt her," the voice croaked as it fought the request of the curse.

"Draco?" He was surprised, and his eyes widened despite himself, the red haired head nodding even as the croaking voice denied it.

It made sense. Voldemort thrived on the suffering of others. To be used as an object, especially in this manner, was horrifying, but Severus agreed that it was exactly the sort of thing that the Dark Lord would find both humorous and exceedingly clever; playing into one Death Eater's lust and loss, and another's fear of worse retribution in order to exact a firm control on both. In fact, Severus wondered if perhaps he would have been too eager to indulge himself with his "gift" with no questions asked, had that amazing weekend back in September not occurred.

The thought made him shudder. Then he thought of the bright purple mark on Narcissa's neck, and began to feel well and truly sick.

"Let me guess," he said, a sarcastic tone rising in his voice as he spoke, "You promised the Dark Lord _anything_ in exchange for your mother's safety. I can appreciate the sentiment, even though I cannot understand it on a personal level. But you were fundamentally foolish. You forget that the Dark Lord has no problem with lying. And he probably forgot to mention it, but your mother appears to have suffered already, though at whose hand I do not know."

The green eyes flickered and they were suddenly gray and stormy, like rainclouds rolling into one another. Draco was fighting the _Imperius,_ and Severus smirked derisively as he waited to see how strong the boy would be against its influence.

It took Draco seventeen minutes to break the hold of the curse on him, and this seemed to affect the Polyjuice as well. His hair had changed almost all the way back to its customary white-blond color, though the tips were still blood red, and it was very disconcerting to see a glaring Malfoy head with adult Lily's breasts and body, wearing a sheer, white lacy nightgown. In fact, it would probably be a sight that Potter and Weasley would delight in laughing at, and Severus almost kicked himself when he realized that he was wasting valuable time thinking about irrelevant things.

"Here," he said to the boy who was crossing his arms over the obvious breasts on his chest uncomfortably and staring daggers through the wall, presumably in Voldemort's direction, "Let me fix that for you. Stay still, now."

With a flourish of his wrist, Severus silently visualized the correct words and cast his spell-the clothing turning to smoke around Draco's body. The boy's eyes went wide and he yelped sharply, freezing mid-scream as Severus glared darkly at him. The smoke rematerialised into a simple white shirt and shorts.

"It's the best I could do with the amount of cloth available," he said quietly, shrugging slightly, and Draco looked up, a shadow of his old First-Year self glinting gratefully in his eyes before he looked away and coughed uncomfortably.

"What are you going to do to me?" Draco said choking on his words a little bit as he formed them. Something about him seemed different, vulnerable, even though he was still doing his best to project that infuriating cocky sureness that seemed to be the cornerstone of his personality.

"If you are done being melodramatic, I was going to suggest that we work on your occlumency," Severus said coldly, narrowing his eyes and doing his best to project an air of disdain, "Unless you would actually like the Dark Lord to figure out that you weren't keeping up your end of the deal, I suggest that you do exactly as I say and stop acting like an utter prat. Also, seventeen minutes is far too long to shake off an _Imperius_ curse, so I'll be training you on that as well."

From the inner pocket of his cloak, (upon which he had cast an Undetectable Extension Charm of which he was very proud seeing as charms were not one of his strengths), Severus pulled a small vial with brown salve inside and motioned for Draco to give him his arm, smearing it over the Mark that writhed on Draco's arm. When the snake and skull had gone still at last, he looked into the wild, frightened eyes of the boy as they darted from the Mark to the man who still held his wrist, inspecting his work and Severus shook his head, clicking his tongue slightly.

"You are going to have to be strong, Draco, and real strength sometimes masquerades as weakness. You are going to have to understand that you cannot play the spoiled rich boy with daddy issues and expect to get away with it anymore, not in these dark times," Severus said, without a hint of warmth in his voice, "I am used to the suffering of life- you might say that I was born into it, but you are still so soft, though you pretend to be hardened and cruel. Remember, sometimes it is useful to show that underbelly, to feign incompetence in the face of adversary. When you are an easy target, your enemy is more likely to let their guard down. So here is my advice to you, Draco. Keep your head down. Let me help you or I can promise you that next time, the Dark Lord is going to package you up and give you to Fenrir Greyback for an evening."

Draco's eyes rolled in terror at this thought, and Severus smiled bitterly.

"I have been in this fight far longer than you have, Draco. If you wish to survive, you need to swallow your pride and accept help."

Draco made an audible gulping noise and nodded, not trusting his voice.

"It is good that you are finally starting to understand, Draco," Severus said in a quiet, dangerous voice, "I used to know several boys just like you. Notice the usage of the _past tense_, Draco. I do not wish to have to speak of _you_ in the past tense as well."

"Please…" Draco whimpered.

"Please, _what_?" Severus said sharply.

"Please help me, Professor Snape," Draco said, his voice cracking shrilly, "Please help my mum and me...help us to survive."

"You will do exactly as I say," his black eyes flashed with triumph, "Or I predict that the next time Nagini gets a hankering for a rich meal, the Dark Lord may decide that he does not need both you _and_ your mother to complete his plans."

There were many hours left until sunset, and Severus was going to make certain that Draco would fully understand the meaning of the muggle phrase "no pain, no gain" by the time they were through. Occlumency first, he decided. Then Imperius resistance training. It would be harder to fight when the boy was tired, which is exactly when the Dark Lord would use it.

He drew his wand and paused. It was then that the invisible message bead against his wrist began to pulse with a gentle heat against his skin, but he knew that he would be unable to see what Hermione had sent him until he was away from this cursed place. In a way, that feeling gave him strength to endure the many grueling hours ahead. His fingers ached to touch her again.

"Oh, and _do_ try to avoid being a total dunderhead, Draco."

He received a nod in reply and scoffed derisively.

"Let us begin."


	63. Chapter 63

**Chapter 63: Christmas Eve**

Hermione woke up feeling full of holiday spirit. She had spent most of the past day and a half engaged in a number of Granger family traditions, many of which felt almost extra special, as she was feeling more and more certain that this was the last time she would ever be able to enjoy them. For all of the jokes that they made about dental decay, Hermione's parents were surprisingly lenient about sweets during the holidays as long as she brushed three times a day and made sure to floss. Other than having somewhat large teeth (which, thanks to magic, were massive no longer), Hermione had never suffered from many oral hygiene problems, though she did sometimes skip flossing while at school, which led to painfully inflamed, bleeding gums when she came home for breaks.

She rolled over, feeling deliciously warm under her comforter, burying her face in the pillow as she inhaled the last lingering scent of _him_, feeling somewhat guilty about keeping such a huge secret from her parents. They had never given her any reason to think that their love was conditional, but Hermione could imagine how she would react if she had a teenaged daughter who were to have an ongoing sexual relationship to the point of becoming pregnant by a professor. Seventeen and considered an adult or not, it would be upsetting to hear, and Hermione wanted to have as many happy memories with her parents while she still could.

She looked over at her desk at the two small packages that she had finished wrapping the night before. Tiny sleighs pulled by reindeer danced magically along the paper. She would be sure to give these particular gifts last, but a part of her dreaded doing so.

A small, urgent warmth prickled against her chest and her fingers went instinctively to the communication bead around her neck. The message was short and succinct, but her heart fluttered anyway.

_**Your room 9pm tonight.**_

The day stretched ahead of her endlessly as she kicked the sheets off of her and went down the hall to begin her morning ritual. She was glad that, other than having to pee twice as often as before, she'd had relatively few traditional pregnancy symptoms after those couple of weeks of nausea.

Brushing the tangles away seemed an impossible task, so she simply pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. She dressed in a baggy red thermal sweatshirt and dark navy blue sweatpants, slipping on some socks to fight the chill that seemed to rise from the floor on these winter mornings. For some reason, ever since the appointment at the clinic, she had felt a firmness and a weight to her abdomen that she hadn't noticed before, and she delighted in wearing comfortable clothing that didn't push against her stomach or restrict her movement.

After being faced with the possibility of termination, she knew that she couldn't...that she didn't want to stop this, her baby..._their_ baby, from growing. A part of her thought that this sentimentality must be Lily's, bleeding over into her own thoughts through the proximity of their souls, but she couldn't help but think that, wherever the thought had originated, it felt right. Hermione could now see why Lily had started a family so young. The frantic fear of outright open warfare must have driven her to seek out life and the hope of creation in the midst of all the destruction and death around her. She had barely any time to become an adult, to feel the growth of a life within her, to hold her baby and have a little family of her own before her life had been torn cruelly from her body.

Hermione was still afraid of what the unknown weeks and months ahead would bring, but she found herself full of a budding joy at the thought of the tiny hope of life that she carried within her. She only hoped that Severus would continue to feel the same. The thought of being left alone was nearly unbearable- even though he had promised to stay by her side there was no guarantee that Voldemort would not expose him and kill him as a traitor, but then she thought about her friends and how selfishly she had been behaving lately. They'd fought and bested terrifying monsters and here she was, worrying about a baby, acting like she was completely alone in the world. It was selfish, really, and she could have smacked herself. If her friends could tolerate her liberal views on house-elf liberation, they would certainly not hate her for having a child of her own. But she also realized that if they ever found out who the father of that child was, there would be quite a number of uncomfortable conversations to be had. She resolved to be kinder, even to Ron, even if he married Lavender and they had a hundred obnoxiously adorable children together.

She returned to her bedroom, wondering what Severus was doing. If he had any family to spend time with or if perhaps he was being subjected to some evil version of an employee Christmas party with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. She hoped not, but the mental image of the Death Eaters singing Christmas carols with the Dark Lord was enough to make her stifle a laugh. And when she looked at the gifts for her parents on the desk, she realized something. Her holiday plan could include more than she had originally planned. But she would need some further preparations before they were ready. She summoned her Advanced Charms book and began flipping through the pages before sliding a finger down the middle of the inner binding to keep the pages from flopping over and began preparing the spell.

* * *

Hermione spent much of her morning working on her new project, wondering when Lily would finally wake up. She had been uncharacteristically quiet lately, often only replying when Hermione was alone and referred to her directly. Something was different about her, but Hermione simply ascribed it to boredom, though Lily did mention that it felt really good to do family things together with Hermione's parents. Decorating and making gingerbread houses _had_ been very fun, though Lily was sad that she couldn't make her own.

_It's been so long, I would practically put up with Tunie and Vernon just to be with family again. _

Hermione didn't really know what to say to that, but she understood how Lily felt.

She came down for breakfast and spent most of the afternoon with her parents in their small library, looking through photo albums and sharing family stories of holidays past. It was a family tradition and Hermione treasured every moment, sitting between her loving parents with a hot mug of cocoa, the kind with tiny marshmallows, just like how she always had it as a kid. It felt almost overwhelmingly nostalgic.

When the grandfather clock in the hall struck half past six, they all got dressed up in their holiday best, bundled up and took a walk through the frozen twilight to the neighborhood Christmas party that the Yates family down at the end of the street always held each year. Hermione helped her father lug the giant green bean casserole that she had helped him prepare earlier, and for a few blessed hours, there was enough food, merriment and socializing to make Hermione feel as though that other life of hers, the magic, the wizarding war, the spirit of a dead girl hiding inside of her and the professor who had taken her virginity and given her more than she had ever expected to receive, were all simply some fictional story that she had been reading and not her reality.

When she realized with a shock that it was already a little after 9pm, she feigned exhaustion and told her parents that she wanted to return home on her own, using the excuse of having been up early with homework that she needed to complete before returning to school. There were many murmurs of approval from the adults and a couple of somewhat irritated yet sympathetic looks from some of the other teenagers who also had winter break homework that they were procrastinating.

As far as her neighbors were concerned, everyone was incredibly impressed (but not surprised) that Hermione had been accepted to a prestigious private school on a full ride scholarship. Many of them speculated that she was rubbing elbows with members of the incredibly wealthy and perhaps even those from various royal families from around the world. Ostensibly, everyone was far too polite to actually ask the Grangers and besides, such a school probably forced families to sign a nondisclosure agreement as a condition of enrollment. But speculation and gossip were fair game.

When she had left after a number of cheery goodbyes and hugs, Hermione's parents positively glowed at the number of complements that they received about their exceptional daughter. They both felt that they were the luckiest parents in the world. After all, there were plenty of teens who were known to get drunk at parties, have sex with strangers and even get knocked up! Hermione's parents thought of all the good Hermione would do in the world once she graduated. She had one more year to go, but they had been delighted at Hermione's grades. Through a pleasant after dinner haze of wine and cider they knew that their daughter not only had the knowledge of the muggle world but also that of magic, and as far as they were concerned, there wasn't any way that Hermione would allow anything to get in the way of anything she set her mind on to achieve.

* * *

It hadn't yet snowed, but the temperature was dropping by the moment as Hermione walked home bundled in her coat, scarf, hat and gloves. She was thankful that there wasn't far to go. She climbed the stairs to the front door of the house, pulling a glove off so she would have the dexterity to get the key out of her pocket and into the lock. She had left her wand in her room because there would be no reason to use it in a room full of muggles, but she felt vulnerable without it nearby, and part of her wanted to simply cast _Alohomora_ and get inside instantly. But she fumbled with the keys instead and finally got the front door open. She hung her things on the hook attached to the wall that was set aside for her with a tiny brass nameplate that bore her first name, next to the ones for her parents and a couple extra for houseguests.

Leaving the light on in the entryway, she climbed the darkened stairs with the familiarity of someone who has climbed them many times before and it was only once she got to her room and realized the door was closed did she feel a small throb of anxiety build in her stomach. She had left the door open, hadn't she?

Cautiously, Hermione grabbed the knob and slowly opened the door. A small light was on the desk, one that she distinctly remembered leaving off when she had left.

At first, her room appeared to be empty. Her eyes darted to the floor. From her angle, she saw something dark- was that a boot? Someone wearing all black was lying motionless on her bedroom floor and Hermione knew that there was only one person she knew who was that tall and wore all black.

"Severus!" She exclaimed loudly, her voice rising in pitch until it was high with fear as she rushed in the door to his side.

He lay on his side, his eyes closed, his skin a waxy yellowish tinge, with prominent dark circles around his eyes, making them look as though they were sinking into his skull. His chest seemed unnaturally still, and her heart thudded in her chest in horror.

"Oh god, please don't be dead, please don't be dead!" she cried, her voice panicky as she stumbled in a panicky haze over to her messenger bag to retrieve her wand before running to his side and shaking him by the shoulders gently.

"Severus! Please! Wake up!"

The figure on the floor did not reply or move, and Hermione feared the worst as she put a hand to his mouth and only detected the barest of breaths, but even as small explosions of fear broke burst within her, she set to work with a fierce and fixed determination. She would do anything to save him- _anything_ at all.


	64. Chapter 64

**Chapter 64: Lightning Crashes**

_Bells_.

Small silvery bells were tinkling merrily in his ears. Ugh, they were annoying. He tried to lift his hand to swat them away, but his arm felt unnaturally heavy. It was like trying to lift an elephant. No, maybe it wasn't bells after all.

It was a voice.

Someone was talking from very far away, it seemed. Was that his name? There was concern in the voice...her voice? Yes, definitely a female voice. It was familiar, but he couldn't seem to place it. Ugh. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't think clearly. He just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to rest. Even his bones seemed to ache. He longed to feel nothing.

Pain bloomed across his chest. It burned painfully, but he felt something moving steadily in his chest like a sluggish steam engine.

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

He felt surprised that he still had a heart at all.

More pain, now, flooding his brain. Cold. He was freezing. He could feel himself surfacing in his skin, as though he had been deep underwater, and part of him felt that it would be better to surrender to it, to sink down until he was nothingness again.

_No_.

The thought pulled his mind into some semblance of alertness. He was needed. She _needed_ him. He had to give her...

With great effort, he opened his eyes, groaning.

"Severus!" Such relief in that voice. But why?

Something wet and warm dripped onto his nose. Rain? _No_. Tears? _Who_ would cry over _him_?

"Hermione," he croaked, finally finding his voice.

"You were barely breathing. Your heart wasn't beating. I had to cast a minor lightning spell on your chest before you responded at all. It hurt your skin a little, but your heart started again. I'm working on a healing spell now. Please keep still," Hermione was talking at a mile a minute as she did some wordless spellwork, which, coupled with the tears running down her cheeks, he knew generally meant that she was majorly freaking out.

Instinctively, he weakly held up his arms to hug her and she laughed despite herself.

"You idiot!" She said through a shaky, teary breath, "You almost died! What was so important that you would exhaust yourself like this? You didn't have to see me if you were feeling so poorly, either! I would bet that the strain of getting here was what almost killed you!"

"But...I needed...I needed to see you," he said more easily, the roughness still evident in the back of his throat.

"What could be so important that you would come all this way in such a state?" She said harshly, though he could tell that she wasn't really angry, just scared and worried.

_About me. Why am I such an idiot? Why do I keep hurting everyone I love?_

He shook his head a little, feeling the roaring ache in his muscles as he did so.

"I brought your Christmas gift," he said gingerly, finding each word easier to get out than the last, "And I finished the potion to separate you and Lily. I've been working on it day and night ever since I got back from my audience with the Dark Lord."

Hermione put a warm hand in his. He was so cold that it was almost like holding fire.

"There," she said gently, "I've finished healing the worst of it, but you'll have another scar. I'm so sorry. I panicked and it was the first thing I could think of, like those medical shows my parents watch where they restart someone's heart with an electric pulse. "

He looked down and could see a strange burst of red flesh, spiderwebbed across his skin where the bolt had traveled through his skin. There was still a slight stench of scorched flesh in the air, but he still looked at her with gentle eyes.

"Your method was...unconventional to say the least, but it worked. Thank you, Hermione. I owe you my life."

Hermione pulled the comforter off of her bed and wrapped it around him.

"I had to rip off your jacket and undershirt," she said, looking embarrassed, "I'll mend them in a bit. That healing spell took a lot of energy. Do you think you can stand? The floor is not a comfortable place."

She got down next to him and put his arm over her shoulder so she could help him up. The bed was close by, and he sank down onto it with a groan. Hermione was untying his boots and removing them gently.

"I'll be right back," she said at last when he was as comfortable as was possible.

She prepared some sliced cheese, deli meat, sliced some bread and added a peeled orange to the side. She poured some cider into a tall glass and, as an afterthought, grabbed a couple cookies and placed them on a tea tray. Filling up an electric kettle with water, she prepared a pot of Earl Gray tea, pressing the button to heat the water as she turned around to pick up the tray. She jumped when she realized that Severus was standing unevenly in the kitchen doorway, his dark eyes studying her silently.

Her eyes immediately went to the white of his chest and the light, almost invisible scars that lay against his bare arms and naked torso, and she blushed deeply at the sight of him. Apparently, he had left the comforter in her room. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and even though he still looked drained and tired, there was something undeniably attractive about the look. He was looking at her looking at him and his mouth began to turn up, hinting at a smirk.

He'd noticed.

She blushed even more deeply and set the tray on the kitchen table harder than she had meant to, causing the orange slices to tumble off the plate.

"You should be in bed!" she hissed, as she recovered from the shock.

"I have always had trouble doing what is best for me, at least that is what I have heard," he said, smiling darkly back at her.

"Well, if you're already down here then you should at least eat something," Hermione said sternly, "I'm not sure what you were thinking, being out in this cold in your state! Did you have a death wish?"

"I promised to stay with you, to care for you to the best of my ability," he said, and his expression was pained, "I do not wish to die, not if I could prevent it."

She glared at him momentarily and then turned around in a huff to busy herself with preparing the tea, clattering dishes and containers as she grabbed the milk and sugar harshly.

Severus began to eat what was in front of him in a steady, methodical manner, but it was obvious that he was ravenously hungry. The color began to rise to his cheeks as he sipped the cider and when Hermione turned around again, the empty tray sat on the kitchen table and he was looking at her a bit sheepishly.

They drank the pot of tea in silence, Hermione's glare softening with each cup as he returned her gaze with that calm, quiet look he was so good at, and afterwards, Hermione made sure to wash up all evidence of their meal. It would not do for her parents to wonder why she was using two cups for tea. She was grateful that her parents were still at the party.

Back in her room again, he asked her if Lily was awake.

"No, she dropped off halfway through the holiday party," Hermione replied, adding, "Are you ok? You _did_ just have a near-death experience. I don't want you to push yourself if it might hurt you."

She put her hand on his knee softly, and he took it in his. Though the temperature of his skin seemed a bit cooler than her's, he was no longer freezing. He pulled something from the inner folds of his cloak with his free hand. It looked familiar.

"I wanted you to open your Christmas present," he said, a soft smile playing across his lips, "That night before you left, so much happened, I guess that my gift to you was less important than...other things..."

He reached out to run his hand along the soft skin of her jaw, lightly pulling a stray snarled strand of hair behind her ear.

"I really, really want to be angry at you right now," Hermione said, leaning into his touch, "But I just don't have the energy. And you had better not take that to mean that you can exhaust yourself to death whenever you want to!"

"Hermione," he said tiredly , "I was not trying to collapse like that. I remember that I was feeling extremely tired, but nothing out of the ordinary. I took off my cloak. Then, darkness. I do not remember much after that."

He handed her the package. There was a small indentation where it had presumably knocked against something hard, but otherwise it looked the same.

"Can I?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Please do," he replied, a small but genuine smile on his lips.

The box was a bit larger than the gift inside, it turned out. Hermione pulled out a small, beaded handbag and looked over at him with a puzzled look on her face. It wasn't the sort of thing she could imagine him purchasing at a store, though it appeared to be muggle in origin.

He smirked a little at her confusion.

"My mother had very few possessions of value, but this was one of them," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "She is long dead and has no use for it, so I have...repurposed it to suit your needs. It used to be a simple black, but I have added some color options based off what I noticed you like to wear. Simply twist the middle bead at the front to change it to fit whatever you are wearing. This will keep it from looking out of place. I have placed a full four-level Undetectable Extension Charm on it. You will be able to fit a literally endless supply of things inside, and I hope that if you do find yourself on the run that this simplifies things immensely. It will also go invisible to anyone but you if it is dropped suddenly, and you can purify food or water by placing it in and taking it out again. I wouldn't recommend putting cursed objects inside, because they can affect the stability of the spell, but most magical objects or benign potions will be safe to put inside."

She looked up at him as he finished, her eyes large and bright with tears.

"Oh! This is...exquisite spellwork," Hermione said in awe, as she examined it.

"I know I am not always very skilled at expressing my feelings," Severus said quietly,"but I do want you to be safe, and protected. I saw that you were studying to do something like this the last time we spent the afternoon in my library, and I know that you already tried a more simplified version of the spell on your messenger bag. I wanted to...do this for you. I know that you are skilled in your own right, but it is my hope that this will make your way easier than the alternative."

She threw her arms around him tightly, pushing him back into the bed, and he tried not to wince when he felt the aches and pains from earlier roar to life with a vengeance as the rest of his body reacted pleasurably to her familiar scent and the pressure of her body.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Hermione said as she remembered he was still recovering, and she quickly moved over next to him.

Hesitantly, he took her hand in his and his expression was suddenly fierce.

"Please promise me that you will protect yourself, no matter what!" he said intensely, "I wish that I could tell you more, but it is dangerous and I want to minimize the risk to you...and..."

He looked down at her abdomen quietly, his meaning clear.

Hermione squeaked, suddenly, remembering what she wanted to show him. She gently unhooked her hand from his and dug into her messenger bag, pulling out a book. She opened it to a certain page and pulled out a long string of thin, glossy paper, and handed it to him.

"I know you wanted to go with me," she said shyly, "But I couldn't chance waiting until after Christmas, and then you told me that you were going to be...with You-Know-Who. A lot of non-emergency offices are fully booked or closed, and I needed to get checked out by a muggle physician before returning to school."

He frowned, looking at the information on the papers.

"Is this...a picture from inside of you?" He asked, his expression puzzled, "They didn't harm you or...our baby...in any way, did they?"

Hermione's heart thudded more quickly when he actually said the words, and she could feel the heat rising in her face.

"It's a muggle procedure that involves using sound waves to make a picture. It's completely safe and it isn't painful at all. The physician told me that I'm almost four months gone," she said finally, rattling off facts to disguise her mounting discomfort, "I'm somewhat surprised that I'm not really showing yet, but I read in my mum's medical textbook that it's actually fairly normal for a first pregnancy not to show much until closer to the end of it. But I know I will start showing at some point, and that terrifies me. I don't know how I will endure the questions. The looks. The disappointment."

"It may not be much of a consolation, but I have something that will help in that regard," Severus said gently as he pulled a small parcel wrapped in brown paper with twine, "Many witches use these to lessen the strain and weight of pregnancy. It also keeps you from 'showing' as you call it. I am not very familiar with what is known as 'Hearth Magic,' but I was able to procure this one...discreetly...and it is the one that came the most highly recommended. You wear it under your clothing and it does the rest."

Hermione opened the package and marveled at the garment underneath. It was feather-light and stretchy; gossamer white material woven into a long camisole-dress, the length of which was obviously made to be worn with robes, but she guessed it would tuck into jeans as well.

"Oh, Severus, this is utterly brilliant!" she said excitedly, fearing that she was going to start crying at any moment out of sheer relief.

"Yes, but it does not solve the problem of how we will protect the child when it is born. How I can protect you from the Dark Lord and his foul plans. How we will be able to be together, be a family..." He trailed off, his face drawn up in a scowl as he tried to hide the discomfort he obviously felt about saying such things, having never had them himself as a child.

"About that," she replied, her voice wavering as she bit her lip a little, "I have an idea, it just won't necessarily be the best for you or I. But...our baby...will be safe until all of this is over. I will need your help, though, to make it work. Can I count on you?"

"Show me, Hermione," he said, and there was a hint of his surly professor's tone in his words, even as his mouth curved upward in a secret smile meant for her alone.


	65. Chapter 65

**Chapter 65: The Australia Plan**

"Australia?" Severus said incredulously

"Australia," she replied firmly.

"But why Australia, specifically?" he said quizzically, "Do you have any other family there?"

"Nope," said Hermione, her voice full of grim determination, "And that is the best part- they won't be the Grangers anymore once we do it. Even if we fail, and _he wins_, there is almost no way for You-Know-Who to find them once they get there. Don't you see? I _have_ to do this. I couldn't bear if he used the non-magical and defenseless people I love to get to me! My parents deserve better than that, and so does...the baby."

"You know that there is no guarantee that you will be able to restore their memories," he said solemnly, already knowing her answer.

"That's why I'm trying to make as many happy memories as I can with them!" she cried, her voice breaking, "I want to have one last Christmas with the people I love before everything goes to hell. Before everything changes and I have to find my way in the world without a clear syllabus and well-defined answers to every question. I'm not sure what makes me the bigger idiot, the fact that I feel completely unprepared for a lack of structure or the fact that I want real life to play by the same rules as school. I know these things, I _really_ do, I just can't stop myself from thinking that _I'm just not ready for it_."

He wrapped his arms around her silently and let her sob ungracefully into his chest. Something told him that Hermione had been bottling these things up for far too long and with a stab of realization, he knew that in many ways, Hermione's heart was just as guarded as his own.

"To be honest, Hermione, I doubt that anyone is ever ready to become an adult, even in the best of times," he replied sadly, thinking of his own miserable seventeenth birthday.

For once, Severus was somewhat thankful for having so few emotional ties to anyone. He had felt nothing but relief when his own parents had died. The thought of Hermione losing parents who had loved and cared deeply for her was a foreign idea to him, but he desperately wanted to know what it felt like. And to some extent, he knew that if only he could get through this maybe he could have that happy future, the one with the family he chose instead of the horrid memories of the one he had been forced into at birth. He wanted to tell her that it would get easier, that being an adult made sense after a time. But he knew that it would be a lie. And he couldn't bring himself to lie to her, even when she was vulnerable and upset and it might bring her some temporary comfort.

"Tomorrow evening," she said, as her breathing began to even out, "I want to do it tomorrow before I lose my nerve. And I want to give them the truth before we take their memory. I know that it's selfish of me, but I just want to tell them, even if they won't remember any of it."

"I suppose it can't be helped, then. We will have to do it earlier than anticipated," Severus replied, and there was an anxious note to his voice.

"What are you referring to?" Hermione's eyes widened in confusion.

"We need to separate you and Lily tonight," he replied grimly, "Otherwise, we may not have another chance."


	66. Chapter 66

**Chapter 66: Separation Anxiety **

Hermione placed strong concealment charms and wards around her room, blocking out the sound and to prevent possible spell bleedthrough that Severus told her might occur. She had offered to do them because she was always excited to practice or learn new magic, but more importantly, he was obviously still quite magically drained and she was terrified that he would collapse again.

He produced a thick stick of violet chalk wrapped in a waxy paper and tied with a rough twine from a hidden pocket.

"You will need to draw two large circles on the floor. When you are done, you will need to place this vial of liquid in the center of one of them with the stopper off and stand in the center of the other" he said gently as he handed her the items she needed, and he watched her work with with a fondness that felt uncomfortably out of his customary demeanor. He hoped that he didn't have a sappy look on his face, though he knew that Hermione wasn't the sort of person who would deride him for that. But old habits died hard, and for good reason. He had suffered far too much to let his guard down easily.

Hermione returned the chalk to him, brushing off the extra purple dust on her shirt, and went to stand in the vacant circle, her eyes meeting him with a raw, trusting look that made his voice catch on his throat slightly.

"Hermione?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes, Severus?" she whispered back.

"Are you ready? Is Lily still asleep?"

"I've got an idea," Hermione said, and a small mischievous smile played across her lips as she came to the edge of the chalk circle, her eyes meeting his playfully, "You could come and kiss me to be sure. You know, for luck."

"I would like nothing better," he said as the color rose to his cheeks and he closed the distance between them.

Even without his boots, he was still more than a head taller than she was. She shivered deliciously as he wrapped an arm around her, holding a hand against the small of her back. His cool fingers were under her chin as he used his free hand to raise her head, kissing her gently with his soft, warm lips. It didn't hurt that he was still completely shirtless, which did make him feel self-conscious, but he had noticed Hermione's obvious interest in him down in the kitchen and the feeling of her brushing against his naked skin was overwhelming.

He smiled despite himself when she stayed Hermione, not even going slightly red at the tips of her hair. He could not help himself; he kissed her and she kissed him back, chest to chest, their breathing synchronizing and their hearts beating more frantically as they felt desire stir within themselves. He had to pry himself from her, his face flushed a shade of aroused crimson that was mirrored in her face as well. It took an immense amount of control to pull himself back into his right mind, and he could see Hermione doing the same as they fought their bodies fiercely. Something told him that if all went well, he would be able to hold her again like this before the night was through, though it was a small comfort.

Finally, they were ready to begin.

"I need you to focus on visualizing your body and the space it inhabits. Since Lily is not supposed to be in your body, the magic I cast will entice her out of you and into the second circle. She will enter the bottle and we will do the second half of the process afterwards. Do you understand? The process should not hurt you or affect the baby in any way at this stage," he said reassuringly, "I checked and double checked all of the books on the subject."

"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said, her heartbeat quickening as she realized how concerned he was about her wellbeing as well as the safety of the baby. Her fears and insecurities from before almost seemed laughable in the face of his devotion.

His brow furrowed as he drew his wand and closed his eyes in concentration and he began.

Hermione's eyes widened when she realized that he was singing the spell, a soft, ancient language of rising notes pouring expertly from his lips.

It was beautiful and she froze, listening to its mournful yet sweet sound.

The chalk circles began to glow, softly at first, and then more brightly, until a purple glow filled the room.

Still, he sang on, and Hermione felt power in the words, even though she did not know what they meant. The hairs on her arms stood at attention and she could feel a wave pulsing in time to the music, filling the room.

She could feel her eyes brimming with unshed tears at the beauty of the song, and as she heard him finish singing, he spoke three guttural, harsh sounding words, and the rings glowed a hot white for a split second.

She waited. Nothing happened for several long minutes.

Suddenly, hot, indescribable pain filled Hermione's head and she struggled to focus on her body, her sense of being as something shifted painful inside of her and she heard Lily's voice whisper into her ear, only it was a nasty hiss that she had never heard before.

_What are you doing? What is this?_

_**Lily, it's time for you to go. We're going to separate, just like we discussed.**_

_Who says that I want to leave this body? Maybe it is __**you**_ _who should be forced to leave. After all, Sev loved __**me**_ _first. I'm the one who wanted his baby, not you. Why don't you just get the hell out of here so I can be happy with him? _

_**Lily, that's not fair! We already discussed-**_

_You won't be missed, you know. Ron has Lavender, Harry will soon have Ginny, and Sev has me. Everyone has someone to love and someone who loves them. But you? Don't make me laugh. Sev pities you. Your friends tolerate you. I've watched you for so long that I know you better than you know yourself. I know you're awkward and bad at socializing, that you hide in books rather than seek out people to spend time with. You're barely a girl, barely a person at all. Face it, no one will care when you're gone. _

Hermione could hear herself screaming from what seemed like a million miles away.

_I'll make it stop hurting if you just do what I say. _

**Why are you doing this? You said we were friends!**

The pain was growing, like hot needles piercing her insides and threatening to tear her apart.

_No one likes a Know-it-All, Hermione, and even YOU know it. Who can truly be friends with that?_

But the worst part wasn't the pain.

_Who are you to come between Sev and I? We were childhood friends. We pledged our souls to one another. You, in comparison, are nothing. Nothing at all. Just give up already! You've already lost!_

The worst part was that Hermione was starting to think that maybe Lily was right.


	67. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67: If No One Will Save You...**

_No one will care if you just die already. _

_**Why are you doing this, Lily?**_

_Just give up! Stop struggling! _

_**Stop. Please. Just stop!**_

_Surrender to it. I'll be a better you than you ever were. _

_**SHUT UP! **_

Hermione became aware of a golden light, filling her limited sight as the pain seemed to curl around her body like a thorny vine. A dark figure began to develop in the hazy bright light. It was Severus, dark eyes serious in concentration, that golden, ethereal song on his lips. He reached out his hand and Hermione weakly struggled against her bonds, feeling sharp bursts of agony against her arms and legs as though she were being impaled.

She realized that she was still screaming but didn't remember when she had started or if she could ever stop. Her concept of time didn't seem to be working anymore. She felt like it could have been minutes or hours or even days trapped in this place between being and nothingness.

Someone laughed derisively as Hermione struggled weakly, her body going limp as the pain overwhelmed her.

_Sev! Wait for me!_

_**No!**_

A figure materialized next to Hermione, and she recognized that it was Lily, wearing absolutely nothing in the sure, confident way of a girl who knew she was special, her body long and lean and radiant. Her red hair bounced merrily as she ran to take the hand that Severus held out, her face a picture of drunken lust and triumph.

_Looks like you lose, Her-mah-ninny. He's made his choice. _

The figures faded as they walked off into the light, and the glow began to dim steadily, leaving Hermione with a bright afterimage spilled across her field of vision as she still fought against the pain that held her fast, coiling ever tighter around her until she could barely breathe.

_**No...don't...leave...me...I...I can't….let it end...like...this…**_

Hermione felt her body weakening, and she went limp. She could smell a pungent smoky odor that made her shudder, adding to the already intense pain coursing through her body.

_**Severus….please….**_

Darkness. Freezing.

_**Help...me….**_

She could feel herself sinking into despair, and she shut her eyes, her sense of Self growing fuzzy around the edges as she began to feel herself falling apart.

_**No.**_

Hermione opened her eyes in the darkness, and something seemed to pulse deeply within her body.

**Power**.

_Her_ power.

_**I must fight.**_

She could feel small sparks coming off of her body in waves as she focused, imagining her physical outline, down to the ever familiar snarls of her hair, which was sure to be frizzing out around her head with all of this static magical buildup around her.

_**For my friends. **_

She didn't care about the frizz and the tangled locks of perpetually messy, bushy hair. She was filled with righteous fire, the rage of a lioness fighting for the lives of her pack, her mate and her cub. It was in the moment that she felt most broken that she began to feel a calm acceptance of her body, the vehicle of her life that connected her to everything she loved.

_**For my family.**_

She pulled herself up against her bonds, fighting through the pain for each inch of headway. As she fought, her power grew and she felt her bonds begin to weaken.

_**For Severus. **_

She gritted her teeth through another burst of progress, and heard an almost metallic screech as she felt links straining and breaking around her in the darkness.

_**For the baby.**_

An arm was free, and she could feel the weight against her upper torso dissolve like smoke.

_**For ME.**_

She could feel a tiny flickering sensation, as though a candle flame were wavering in a breeze within her, and she realized that she was feeling a second heartbeat, frantic and tiny, inside of her. She could feel a tiny curl of power, separate from her own, reaching out and mixing with the electric glow of her own.

_**Because it isn't up to Lily, or whoever that is masquerading as Lily, to decide whether or not I deserve to exist. It is up to ME. And I say that I DO deserve to exist!**_

With a sound like shattering glass, she broke free completely, her nerves singing with a rush of power as she felt it licking against her battered body, healing her. She could move again, drifting in the inky black like a swimmer deep underwater. Anger filled her with its fiery warmth and she felt as though magic were rolling under her skin like waves on the ocean.

_**Give my body back, you bitch!**_

Light poured from her body, creating a shimmering pathway ahead of her that resembled a swirling cloud of golden dust. She set a foot gingerly on it and when it held, she found herself following it onward through darkness, her jaw set in determination. She would not go quietly into oblivion. Besides, there was so much she still needed to do.

And she vowed that she would do it on her own terms, with her own two hands, in her own body.


	68. Chapter 68

_Author's Note: Today is my birthday, so I've been relaxing a bit- thank goodness the writing bug hit so I have a chapter for you today too! Yay- everyone wins! For those of you who want to know, there is still so much more to come in this story. I hope that you will stick with us and see it through, no matter what happens in the end. As always, I love reading your feedback and comments!_

**Chapter 68: She's Something Else**

Hermione opened her eyes. She smiled, even as the skin of her lips cracked painfully and she felt that familiar weight of her body sinking into something soft. She breathed in deeply. She was in her bed, under the covers, tucked in tightly.

Maybe it was just a horrible nightmare after all.

"Lily?" she whispered.

"Gone," said a quiet, raspy voice, and Hermione turned, her body aching with fatigue, to see Severus collapsed partially on her bed, the top part of his torso on the mattress and his head angled up to look at her through clumpy strings of black hair. He seemed to be shivering, and his face was set in a determined grimace.

"What?" she replied, her eyes snapping open, "Oh my god, Severus, what's going on?! Why are you bleeding?"

A shallow cut bled slightly from one of his cheeks as he shifted a little and groaned, and when she pulled off the covers and slipped off the opposite side of her bed, coming around to the other side, she saw that one of his legs looked to be at a strange angle, and the skin on his right arm was horribly discolored by an angry purple and red bruise.

Hermione grabbed her wand from her messenger bag and set to work on the cut first, then the bruise, helping to heal it back down to an old yellow and brown color, which still looked awful, but at least he was able to move it without wincing in pain.

"Your leg…" she said worriedly, "I think it's the bone. I've never repaired bone before. I don't know if I can do it with magic alone."

"Go to my cloak," he said tiredly, "In the upper left inside pocket there should be a vial of green iridescent liquid. It sets bone."

Hermione rushed over and followed his instructions, retrieving the proper vial. She handed it to him, and he picked up his wand and silently cast the clothing removal spell he'd used before, his trousers coiled nearly on the floor next to him as he carefully moved into a sitting position, now wearing only a simple pair of black boxers. She certainly noticed his lack of attire and instinctively, her cheeks reddened slightly, but she was far too concerned and confused about what had just happened to do anything beyond stand uselessly at his side as he applied the liquid, watching the green absorb into the skin on the leg (which looked even worse now that it was completely visible, a small lump pushing out against the skin that looked to be the tip of a bone), and with a sickening crunching cracking noise, the leg appeared to reshape itself until it seemed normal again. Severus gritted his teeth and swallowed a groan back down as it repaired itself, and then he gingerly grabbed around where the break had been, finally testing his weight on it as he got back up onto his knees, then pulling himself up to standing.

"I'm all right," he said testily, waving away Hermione's offered arm, and he took a couple of wobbly steps. The leg held, but he still looked horribly drained, the waxy yellow color returning to his face as he moved. Trying not to stare at the surly man, Hermione looked over at the clock on her bedside table and noticed that several hours had passed. It was almost half past midnight.

"Can you tell me what happened? Where is Lily? Why was she trying to push me out of my body?" she said finally, crossing her arms and sitting on the bed as he did a couple of shaky laps around her room.

He sighed heavily, resting his weight against the chair by her desk.

"I have known for awhile that Lily was not exactly what she appeared to be," he said quietly, turning to look at her with sad eyes, "I could not talk to you about this because I was not sure how much she could see or perceive, even while supposedly asleep. I had to let her think that I was completely under her spell, well, her feminine charms that is, or I worried that she would try to harm you or poison your relationship with me."

"If she wasn't a Shade, like I had originally thought, then what was she?" Hermione felt horrible using the past tense, but Severus had told her that Lily was _gone_, and that seemed pretty final to her.

"After Lily attached to you, I found it strange that the Schadenspiritus attached to my Mark did not give me any trouble. I generally have a good control over it, especially after many years as an Occlumens and the special salve that I have developed to combat its influence. But I noticed that I did not even feel minor stirrings, and I was suspicious about it. Sure enough, when I went without the salve for several weeks, there were no cravings to do terrible things. But Lily seemed so genuine at first, so I tried to put it out of my mind. Then there were a few things that occurred that aroused my suspicions and I did some more research about the Schadenspiritus. The spell I cast tonight was from an ancient binding ritual that works well on most species of djinn- it transfers and ties the entity to another object of the caster's choice. The Dark Mark cannot be altered without the Dark Lord's immediate knowledge, but something about that potion you took, the Felix Felicis component seemed to counteract that particular aspect."

"So Lily wasn't really Lily?" Hermione said slowly, still processing his words.

"That is almost correct," he replied, and he looked over onto the floor where the small vial from before sat in the purple ring, its contents now a bright, violent crimson, bubbling futilely against the black rubber stopper at the top, "The worst part is that there is a part of Lily in there, part of her soul. The _Anima Voti_ worked, of that I have no doubts. It is one of the reasons I now realize why I was able to cast a patronus, though no other Death Eater I know of can do so due to the Mark. But the Schadenspiritus is mixed in there too. I am not certain I will be able to separate them, but I will do my best. She is gone from your body, however, and I am relieved that no harm appears to have come to you."

"She..._hurt_ me…" Hermione said, looking away and remembering the painful bonds that had held her in the dark, "Then..._you_ appeared and walked off with her. You left me alone, and I almost gave up in despair. I used my own power to break free. And when I woke up, I was in bed."

"That...I noticed that she was struggling against the spell to move from you to the vial, so I made her think that I was calling for her, that I was ignorant of her true nature. I did not know that you were being harmed by her, or I would have helped you," he said, and then she could see faint upturn at the corners of his mouth as he finally reached the bed and sat gingerly next to her, turning to brush a strand of her hair from her face, though it promptly sprang back to its former place, "Though it does seem that you are perfectly capable of saving yourself."

"Did you….put me in bed?" she said, her eyes darting to his newly healed leg.

"I used my magic to levitate you," he said, touching her cheek softly, "You collapsed as soon as I got the...Lily-Schadenspiritus...into the vial and sealed it properly."

"How did you get so injured, then?" Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing in concern as she touched the ghost of a line where she had healed the cut on his face.

"All Schadenspiritus entities require that a sacrifice of adequate pain be made as part of the conditions of the move- and I offered my body," he said, adding sharply when he saw the look on her face, "And do not even think for one moment that you should have offered to endure it. This is part of my grave mistake all those years ago- the damned Mark that has followed me and led me to the darkest of places, and I will not allow anyone else to take responsibility for it!"

With that, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, though she could feel a slight tremor in the arm that had been bruised so terribly before. She breathed in the scent of his naked skin, feeling small goosebumps raising on his arms and chest as she drew close to him.

"I...thank you, Severus," Hermione said, her heart thumping harder as he held her to him and it finally sank in that he was almost completely naked now.

"I am so sorry that I was unable to be completely honest with you until now," he said, nuzzling the top of her head, "There was a chance that you could have been harmed simply for knowing the truth. I could not bear it if I lost you too."

Hermione's stomach felt as though it were doing somersaults. She knew that he was still tired and injured, but she could not help but feel an intense relief just to be close to him, even though another, secret part of herself was beginning to feel the heat of desire growing as she felt his own pulse quicken each time he touched her.

"There is still something I really want to do," she said softly, looking up at him with her eyes half-open.

"And what might that be?" he replied breathily as he met her gaze, their faces so close together that they were almost touching.

"This," she mouthed as she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.


	69. Chapter 69

;) Hold onto your underpants, everyone, it's going to be a wild ride. PS: bonus points for whoever can tell me what song/artist inspired today's chapter title.

**Chapter 69: Here's to the Night**

What had started as one kiss made its way into many, many more, and Hermione cupped the side of his jaw in one hand gently, so that he could lean into it and rest some of his weight into her. She pulled away reluctantly and set to work shedding her clothing hastily, until she was stripped down to a pair of light grey panties, which she left on. One of the unexpected changes of pregnancy was that she found herself becoming almost ridiculously wet very quickly, and she had become increasingly self-conscious of this fact, so she didn't want to remove them quite yet.

He traced the shape of her breast with his fingers, firmly sliding the tip of his index finger over her nipple until it stood erect and dark in the half-light of the desklamp. She shivered as he did the same to the other, smiling faintly when they matched in their firmness.

"I don't expect you to...you're still recovering..." she said, her face turning red as she met his eyes with her own.

"Every moment that I am with you, that I am able to give you the pleasure that I feel you deserve, is a moment that I cannot bring myself to waste doing nothing," he replied, a small noise of pleasure catching in his throat as she reached down and slipped her fingers under the waistband of his shorts.

His erect cock wasn't exactly hidden by the thin material, but she found herself smile when her fingers finally found what they were searching for, and she wrapped her warm hand around the shaft, sliding against the smooth, soft skin in a smooth rolling motion that made Severus close his eyes as his body responded to the sensation. Her wrist was somewhat restricted by the material, so she slipped down to the floor from the bed after one more deep, heated kiss, and used both hands to pull down the soft material from his hips, sliding them down to his legs and smiling somewhat wickedly at the way that his erect member sprung free from them, the head hot and flushed with desire.

On a whim, she nuzzled between his thighs, using her teeth to pull the shorts the rest of the way down to his feet, using her hands to rub the inside of his sensitive thighs up to where his legs met his torso, reveling in the way he responded to her touch, and how she could feel her magic licking his skin as she touched him, his own power responding, albeit a bit more weakly than usual, in kind. With one hand, she grabbed the base of his cock, holding it firmly in a way that she found that he enjoyed best, before taking the top part of the shaft and the head of his cock into her mouth. Sex with Severus was like learning a particularly complicated spell. There were always more than one way to try, but the best way worked to create the most satisfactory end result.

She could hear him groan with pleasure as the heat and wetness surrounded him, and she added exactly the right amount of pressure on him with her mouth, sliding back and forth in that maddeningly eager way that made his toes curl. He was sitting up slightly on the backs of his hands, looking down at her, and while she felt somewhat embarrassed at her position due to many years of being told that things like this, putting one's mouth on another person's most intimate places, were dirty and wrong and made women slutty and disgusting, a part of her felt a fierce sense of pride and enjoyment in bringing pleasure to the man she loved.

It also helped that, unlike her fears of sweaty, foggy, urine stench-filled, overly hairy genitalia, Severus always seemed to have a mild, almost herbal scent and while he was not hairless, kept himself well groomed. She found herself looking up again and the expression on his face made her shiver involuntarily. His eyes were closed in an almost wince-like expression, redness darkening his cheeks and neck slightly in his aroused state. His mouth was slightly open and he was practically panting as she slid her mouth over his cock, gripping him with her hand, steadying herself on her knees with her free hand as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his thigh, and she felt a spark of her power enter his body, as skin met skin.

His body jerked a little at the sensation and he moaned somewhat loudly, a sound that awoke a pulse of heat inside of her that roared to life with a desire of its own.

"Hermione," he practically whispered, his voice thick in his pleasure.

"Mmm?" she replied, the vibration making his legs shake as the sensation ran through the core of him.

"Please, come here, kiss me," he said shakily, and she rose from her place on the floor and his eyes opened again as he heard her stand. She pressed between his legs, pulling him up into a full sitting position and she felt his cock pressing against her belly as she pulled him to her and kissed him again and again.

"Scoot back on the bed on your back," she said, as she broke away, her voice tinged with lust.

"Oh, yessss," he said in reply, moving as she had asked, "Please...fuck me…"

Hermione bit her lip and grinned toothily.

"Well, if you insist," she said snarkily as she slipped off her panties, tossing them to the floor, and before he could protest, she climbed over his body, rubbing her breasts against him as she moved into position and, meeting him face to face, she met his eyes and gave him a triumphant grin.

"What..?" he started, and then she put a finger to his lips.

"Look into my eyes while I take you," she said, her voice soft but intense, as she summoned her courage to say such embarrassing things, and she managed only to turn a light pink instead of the full crimson she had expected.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd already bested a murderous spirit only hours before, but she was feeling a calm sureness to her power and ability tonight, and she wanted to protect him, to heal him, to replenish his stores of power with her own, to convince him that she would not simply drain him and take from him like everyone else in his life.

He locked his eyes on hers, his corneas as dark as the depths of the ocean where even light could not reach.

"Good boy," she purred quietly against his lips, and she felt him quiver slightly as she moved down and pressed her lips softly against the sensitive skin of his exposed neck, simultaneously guiding his cock slowly inside of her.

The sharp cry he uttered was music to her ears and Hermione brought her hips down hard so that he was buried all the way inside of her wet folds, the moans he produced exquisite in their total lack of control. Perhaps it was his fatigue from his work on the Schadenspiritus potion and service to the Dark Lord the past couple of nights, but his usual rigid control, partially raised at all times even when he was with her, was all but gone. All that was left was an achingly vulnerable core that seemed to plead with her silently through midnight eyes, and for the first time, she could see this was his heart laid bare, starved for love, for the touch of a gentle hand, with a driving need for acceptance, however small.

Her own breathing was hard and unsteady as she began to work at a rhythm, moving her hips so that he slid in and out of her in a lewd and pleasurable manner. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she held him down underneath her, strands of her hair whispering around the sides of his face like an auburn curtain. She held his gaze as she wrung pleasure from him, and something in the depths of his eyes broke from deep within, rising to the surface and threatening to overflow. His eyes were bright with slick, unshed tears as he stared deeply into her eyes, not even daring to blink, and she could feel her power stroking and caressing his skin, enveloping it like a blanket, his skin taking on a ruddy, healthy glow as it covered him.

Hermione felt her brain trying to make sense of the growing feeling that bubbled up in her chest. This wasn't just sex, filling some primal urge for no other reason beyond proximity and convenience. This was something else, an act of love, one that felt so intimate that Hermione felt something shift inside of herself as well as she looked into his eyes, and she could not avert her gaze, even if she had wanted to.

She kept up a slow and deliberate pace, and he responded with the most wonderful exhalations of pleasure, sounds that he would have held in stoically were he in his right mind. She delighted in each as though it were a gift in and of itself, feeling a twin pulse of pleasure and heat through her core as she continued her attentions.

"Seh-vehr-ussssss," she pronounced each syllable of his name as though they were notes to a secret song that they shared and he moaned into her mouth as she covered his lips with her own, kissing him insistently.

Her breath was somehow both ragged and deep as she felt the first golden fingers of pleasure building to a frantic flutter inside of her, and without warning, she felt herself fall into the blinding sensation of orgasm, clenching hard around his length as he called out her name in ragged, halting breaths of his own.

"Come for me, Severus," she said breathlessly as she rode her climax through to its completion, and he bucked against her, writhing mindlessly even as his eyes went wide, still looking at her but no longer seeing as his cock began to pulse hard and fast, pouring hot jets of semen inside of her. To her surprise, a second peak built within her and she felt herself begin to climax once more, though the feeling that spread through her was less insistent than before and filled her with a warmth that she could feel emanating from her womb and outward to her fingers and toes.

His eyes were half-closed in bliss as he sunk back into the bed beneath him, and she lay across his bare chest, tracing her finger along his lips as she kept him inside of her as long as possible.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, and his voice had an energy in its softness that hadn't been there before.

"Hermione, I feel that I must tell you something," Severus said quietly, his voice wavering slightly as he continued, "Something that I have been trying to hold off telling you because of all that has happened. You are still very young, far too young to feel forced into a permanent decision, yet I cannot deny my own feelings any longer without fearing that I might simply break apart from the sheer despair that you might never know."

He paused, as though it were physically painful for him to summon the courage to continue.

Hermione didn't know what he was about to say, but she felt herself growing warm and

flushed as a wave of his magic licked at her skin.

"I am a terribly flawed individual. You should hold no fantasies that I am somehow going to change into a wholly different person. I am...unfamiliar with kindness..and for a time, I convinced myself that I could survive in a world without it, that I could fulfill my purpose and fade from this world as unwanted as when I was born."

Hermione touched his cheek and was surprised when she felt a line of moisture running down from the corner of his eye.

"But being with you..." He trailed off, nuzzling into her touch, "The feeling that I get when we are together is...it's...indescribably amazing. I feel love so strongly that my heart threatens to burst, yet it never empties me the way that unrequited affection has in the past. You fill me up just as I fill you, and somehow, it is as though I can see color after being trapped in a world of shades."

"Severus," Hermione said quietly, her heart thudding in her chest as he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her and she closed her eyes, feeling utterly safe against him as she listened to his heart beat and felt the rise and fall of his chest underneath her.

"I..." He started, pursing his lips, "Will you..? That is-What I am trying to say is...oh bollocks, I am _terrible_ at this."

He brought one of his hands up to cover his eyes in frustration and she chanced a look up at his face. His cheeks were burning with color and she could tell that he was trying hard not to let a stream of curses spill from his mouth in his frustration. She smiled slightly and nuzzled into his other arm. She would give him time.

"Hermione," he said insistently, his voice somewhat hoarse and flustered, and she looked up at him, her eyes expectantly searching his for a clue as to what he was working himself into such a state about.

"Yes, Severus?" she replied softly, hoping it would help him to feel comfortable enough to speak frankly with her.

"Would you...that is...are you not be completely adverse to marrying me?" the words were rushed and jumbled as they tumbled awkwardly from his mouth, but the meaning was clear.

Hermione's heart began to beat like a hummingbird's wings in her chest, and she could feel it's twin thumping away against her ear as she lay against him, both of them frozen in shock in the wake of his words.


	70. Chapter 70

**Author's Note: So just FYI, I'm going to be posting two chapters today. I was unable to post one yesterday because I didn't have access to a computer, so lucky you, today you get two chapters for the price of one! :) Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 70: The Past and the Future**

"Yes," Hermione said softly, breathing hard against his chest after a long silence, her brain still buzzing with the enormity of his words.

"What did you-?"

"I said **yes**," Hermione said clearly, her voice growing in volume and conviction.

"But..." he sputtered as she cut him off with a kiss.

"I'm not an idiot or a child," she said haughtily, blushing as he looked at her in silent awe, "If you hadn't already noticed, I'm both an adult as far as the wizarding world is concerned and growing a child of my own, courtesy of your apparently very virile s-sp-sperm."

Her voice wavered a little as she finished her tirade, her embarrassment evident on her face.

"Well," Severus said carefully, his expression still a little shocked, "I hope you do not think that you have to answer me right away. If you need more time to think it through-"

"You know, I did actually think you might try to do something like this out of some misguided sense of honor or duty," Hermione said softly, "But if that was the reason, I could never agree to it. I would never want to tie you to me for life simply because I had a child by you. It wouldn't be fair to either of us, much less a child raised in such an environment."

"I see," Severus said thoughtfully, his eyes becoming distant in memory.

"You're thinking about your parents, aren't you?" Hermione said gently.

"Yes," he said, after a thoughtful pause, "I will spare you the details, but I did suffer greatly from my parents' hate for one another. I was a reminder of what they had done to lose their autonomy, you see, and at best I could look forward to indifference. At worst...well, you have seen my body. Many of the older scars I carry are from before I started school. My father was a fan of striking me with his belt, his fists and sometimes bottles of whatever he had been drinking once it was empty. If I was lucky, the bottle would not break when it hit me. Tiny shards of glass are difficult to remove."

Hermione felt herself prickle with a fierce desire to throw her arms around him, but he looked so aloof and untouchable as he rattled off a list of the terrible things that had marked his childhood and young adult life as though they were somehow completely justified, that she simply stayed where she was. She had obviously heard bits and pieces before, but the more she learned, the more disgusted she was with his parents, if one could even call them that, and she became more and more relieved that they were apparently both dead.

"My mother hit me mostly when I was very young. For being louder than she liked. Or moving around in ways she did not like. If I recall, she had a particularly intense hatred of the sound of my laughter. When I got older, it was easier for her to use words and insinuations of my inferiority, though there was not much more she could do to destroy the last remnants of my self-worth."

He paused as he seemed to come back to himself and looked down at Hermione, nestled warm and secure against him, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked back up at him.

"I did not mean to make you-" he trailed off sadly.

"I can't imagine what that must have been like for you," Hermione replied softly, righteous tears falling from her eyes, "But I can promise that I would never allow our child to grow up like that. I would rather die."

"I do not think that level of sacrifice will be required from you," Severus said with a darkly sarcastic tone, though he did not explain the conflicting feeling of both joy at the thought of them pledging themselves to one another and despair at the thought that he would likely not live to see their first anniversary if the Dark Lord's plans continued to succeed so thoroughly.

"I won't be able to take your name, you know," she said, her voice fading as she yawned a little, the lateness of the hour weighing on them both, "At least, not while we are all at war."

"What if...what if we did something else?" A sly smile was slowly spreading across his face.

"Like what?"

"What if we decided on a completely different surname, one that could be just for us? One that cuts the ties to my past so that we can build a future together?" His expression was neutral but expectant.

"I would like that, very much," Hermione said, her mind whirring with the possibilities.

As though to signal how late (or rather early) it was, both of them yawned, Hermione's eyes half-open as she pulled the blankets up and over them both, while Severus used his wand to clean the remnants of their earlier activities from their bodies and the bed.

By the time they had fallen asleep together, a glow had just begun to crest the hills in the distance from her bedroom window and Christmas morning had inevitably begun.


	71. Chapter 71

**Chapter 71: A Granger Christmas **

Hermione had never been the type of child to wake her parents at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning. Her parents had a standing rule that she could open her stocking and watch cartoons until they came down from their room at a reasonable 9 or even 10 in the morning. But now that she was a teenager (well, an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world, but really only just), her parents found that they had the opposite problem. Every Christmas since she had hit 14, they had gotten downstairs, made tea and breakfast, opened their stockings and watched a number of morning Christmas programs before Hermione graced them with her voluminous, scraggly, bed-headed presence. It was a normal part of growing up, they had been told by those who had already sent children off to college and beyond. But it was nearly noon and Mr. Granger was in a bit of a mood at having to wait so long for his only child to rouse herself.

"Oh, let her sleep," Hermione's mother said gently, placing her coffee-colored hand on her husband's pale arm as he started towards the stairs, "It will do her good. She seems to really push herself in school. She is even working on her homework before she really ought to. She may have _your_ temper, but she inherited _my_ perfectionist nature. Why do you think that I have been working on a second degree in neuroscience? I may be a dentist now because the pay is quite good, but I can't bear to stagnate in the same place, rehashing the same old bits of knowledge."

Her husband looked at her over his glasses with warm affection as she smiled coyly into her cup of tea.

"Well, I suppose, as long as I can get a kiss from my best girl," he said, waggling his eyebrows and scooping his wife up in a hug the moment she set her tea cup down in a way that would have made Hermione incredibly embarrassed at her parents' blatant intimacy.

"See?" Hermione's mother said, when she finally came up for air, "There _are_ benefits to letting our daughter sleep the day away."

"How did I ever get so lucky?" Hermione's father said bashfully, scratching his head for comedic effect.

"I don't know," she replied, smirking mischievously, "But _do_ be sure to tell me when you work it out."

A knock sounded at the door and the two of them snapped out of the dreamy haze of their own little world.

"You expecting relatives today?" Hermione's father said, looking mildly annoyed at the interruption.

"Not that I'm aware of," Hermione's mother appeared to be similarly vexed, and she added playfully, "Perhaps it's some of your second cousins visiting from America. It certainly would be just like your side of the family to show up unannounced."

Hermione's father chuckled affably, "You're right, you know. That's why I had to move across an entire ocean to avoid their unending nosiness."

And with that, he walked towards the front hall, mentally cursing whoever had interrupted them and attempting to put on at least a halfway believable look of surprised delight just in case it really was one of the famously nosy Grangers, freshly arrived from the States.

Hermione woke up feeling like she had been thrown down a flight of stairs. One hand gingerly felt at the messy bush of her hair and dropped down in defeat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, realizing that she'd drooled on the pillow again, and looked exactly the opposite of the attractive fiancée of...wait...where was he?

She pulled herself up to a sitting position, groggily rubbing her eyes.

"Severus?" she said blearily, blinking through her painfully sleep-crusted eyes. She vowed that she would never go to bed without washing her face again.

He was gone. All traces of the night before had been completely removed, though Hermione still had a small amount of purple chalk dust under her fingernails, so she knew it wasn't a dream. With a groan, she turned to look at her bedside table, cursing when she saw the time. Her parents would be irritated with her for holding up Christmas morning.

Next to the clock was a little bottle and a note folded underneath in parchment.

She picked up the potion and unstoppered it. She knew this smell, but she made sure to unfold the note and read it first.

_This should help you feel a little more energy for the work we have yet to do today. Wards are still up on your door, but I have no doubts that you are quite capable of contending with them yourself. I will see you soon. _

_With love,_

_S.S. _

Hermione blushed madly at the end of the letter. This was the first time he had written out his feelings towards her, and somehow that made it even more real than before. She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her messenger bag. She drank the potion, feeling bright sparks of energy spreading out from her stomach and all the way to the ends of her hair, her fingers and toes.

She set to work on removing the wards on her bedroom door and halved her previous time. With a look of satisfaction, she grabbed some clothing and ran to the bathroom, her body suddenly realizing that she hadn't peed in over twelve hours. She washed her face and then, deciding her hair was being absolutely hopeless, hopped in the shower. She thought she could hear voices talking downstairs through the thin bathroom door, but she figured she would find out what her parents were talking about so animatedly when she finished getting ready

Little did she know that she would most definitely not be ready for what she found when she bounded down the stairs and down the hall to the kitchen.


	72. Chapter 72

**Chapter 72: Breakfast Announcements**

"Happy Christmas, Mum and Dad!" Hermione said cheerfully, as she entered the kitchen, but she stopped short when she saw the tall figure in black seated between her parents.

Severus was holding one of her mother's dainty holiday teacups, the ones she saved for company, and the look in his eyes when he met hers was one of blind terror, though the rest of his body betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

"Good morning, dear," Hermione's father said excitedly, "Professor Snape has come all the way from Hogwarts to tell us something important regarding you, but we decided to wait until you came downstairs."

Hermione's parents were quite amazed by magic. The fact that their daughter could use it while they could not was frustrating yet fascinating to Hermione's mother, who had started a doctorate program in neuroscience largely for that very reason. She had a suspicion that it had something to do with the brain, and she wanted to be the one to figure it out. Hermione's father was simply entranced by it all, much in the same way Arthur Weasley was obsessed with muggle technology. He had a secret collection of chocolate frog cards that he kept in a binder on his bedside table.

Hermione sat down in the remaining empty chair, pouring some tea from the pot on the table and methodically adding a small amount of sugar and milk, stirring it with a spoon slowly in the uncomfortable silence. Hermione blushed a little in embarrassment at the overly eager way that her parents were staring at Severus, as though he were about to make a rabbit appear or pull his wand and levitate the table.

"So, um..." Hermione started, looking down at her cup.

"What is it like teaching at a magical school?" Hermione's father asked eagerly, looking up at the hooked nose on the man next to him with something like awe.

"It is much like teaching at any school," Severus said sourly, "Except that it seems like nearly every student, present company excepted, seems to delight in blowing up cauldrons and refusing to learn even the most basic of defensive spells. I might as well be attempting to teach gibbons with sticks."

Hermione snorted into her tea. Even when he was trying to make a good impression, the Defense teacher simply could not bring himself to shake off his prickly demeanor.

"I know it's a little unorthodox, Professor," Hermione's mother said brightly, and he could see where Hermione had inherited her smile, "But we haven't done our gift exchange this morning and so we would really like to move over into the front room. You are welcome to stay if you'd like, but now that everyone's here, it seems appropriate if you would like to make your announcement now."

"Well, you see..." Severus started, looking at Hermione as though she could help him, and she shook her head very slightly, a gesture her parents did not see, as their attention was focused on him.

"Er...Hermione...Miss Granger has been selected by the Headmaster to receive a very special...opportunity," he said haltingly, and Hermione could see that he was grasping at straws, though she was intrigued as to what he would say next..

"Did you hear that, sweetheart?" Hermione's father said excitedly, "I wouldn't expect any less from our talented daughter!"

"Yes, well, the Headmaster was very insistent that you be made aware immediately," Severus continued, his eyes still looking as surprised as she was at the words that were coming from his mouth, "Your daughter has been selected to receive a special appointment starting next year. We give all students plenty of time to make the decision, obviously taking into consideration parental opinion, which is why I came here today. Hermione has shown excellent growth in the subject of potion-making, and while her current professor, a Mr. Slughorn, is an adequate teacher, only I am certified as a Potions Master, and as such, I would like to offer Miss Granger an apprenticeship. Not only will this help her develop a more advanced understanding in this incredibly nuanced subject, but her choice of career opportunities after graduation will be...significantly improved. From the field of medicine to magical law enforcement or entrepreneurship, the ability to know how to create or even invent new potions is one of the most highly regarded skills in the magical community. I have absolutely no qualms in taking on this responsibility should she accept, as Miss Granger has set herself head and shoulders above the other students of her year."

Hermione looked genuinely shocked and markedly thrilled at his pronouncement, though when he mentioned Slughorn, she muttered something under her breath about Harry and his stupid prince, but her parents did not hear it, as they were still celebrating amongst themselves and Severus had no idea what to do with this information other than to think about that awful "Weasley is Our King" song. Could it be that those two boys were..._more_ than just friends? He scoffed inwardly, imagining the Weasley boy wearing a big crown, holding a scepter and calling Potter his "prince." The absurdity of the mental image forced him to swallow the amused chuckle that threatened to break free from his throat and Hermione gave him a murderous look, obviously misinterpreting his reaction as something to do with her.

"Splendid news! Simply splendid!" Hermione's father said, all smiles.

"What a lovely Christmas present, don't you think, luv?" Hermione's mother beamed.

"Well...yes, of course!" Hermione said, forcing a big smile, though her eyes still looked anxious. Severus could tell from her expression that she really wanted to speak with him privately.

"Miss Granger, do you have your Advanced Potion-Making textbook with you today?" he asked suddenly, already knowing her answer.

"I...it's up in my room," Hermione said, looking up the stairs behind her.

"Will you accompany me upstairs? If you decide to accept my offer today, I will assign you some extra coursework to prepare you for the grueling work ahead in your seventh year," he said, giving off his most serious and imposing air.

"Mum? Dad? Is that ok?" Hermione said, looking askance at her parents. She wasn't sure how they would react to knowing that she would be alone in her room with a member of the opposite sex.

"Mmm, that's fine, luv," her mother said, picking up the empty teapot and bringing to the sink to rinse, "Your father and I will do the dishes and get ready to exchange and open gifts. Take your time and make sure to get all the details on your new assignments."

"I am so proud of you!" her father swept her up in his arms, hugging Hermione until she felt the air go out of her lungs, and after a long moment, he let her free and Hermione felt both relieved not to have the wind crushed out of her and secretly happy in the way that a securely attached child revels in the affection of her parents.

"This way, Professor," Hermione said formally, and she fought the urge not to grin back when she saw him smirk secretly at her.

With a nod at her parents, he followed Hermione up the stairs, his cloak billowing impressively as he climbed them with a measured and intimidatingly authoritative pace.


	73. Chapter 73

**Chapter 73: Negotiations**

"Your parents seem to...be disturbingly interested in me," Severus said, his expression puzzled as they reached the upstairs landing, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, "It feels like being a celebrity, and you know how much I hated Lockhart and his pomposity. Having expectant eyes on me makes me feel markedly uncomfortable."

"I wish you had told me in your note that you would be downstairs," Hermione hissed, glancing nervously towards the stairs in case her parents could hear them talking, "I almost had a heart attack when I saw you sitting there."

"I must confess that I found myself in over my head much more quickly than I had anticipated," he replied quietly, drawing close to Hermione as she leaned against her door a little, her heart pounding as he drew close to her and she could smell a hint of sex on his skin, of their individual scents mixed together in such a way that made her mind race with thoughts of tackling the man before her and taking him right on the carpeted floor of the upstairs hallway.

"I…" she trailed off, feeling her eyes go wide as he towered over her, his face getting closer and closer to hers, and she could see his mouth open slightly as though he too were transfixed by her in return.

"Your door," he whispered precisely, his voice full of need as he clearly enunciated each syllable, "Open it."

Without looking behind her, Hermione grabbed the knob of the door and twisted it, falling backwards into the room as he pushed forward, sweeping her up in his robes and closing the door wordlessly with his wand behind him as he kissed her deeply, the expression in his eyes softening with delight as he brought a deeper shade of red to her cheeks, her eyes widening as he ran a hand down the small of her back and he pulled her even more tightly against his body.

After many long moments, he reluctantly disengaged his mouth from hers and brushed his lips against her ear, his hair tickling her cheek.

"I require some of your time, _Miss Granger_," he whispered, his hands running over her body urgently and she could hear the smile in his words, which sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

"My parents-" Hermione said absentmindedly, as though she were required to say it although she didn't actually want to do so.

"I know," he replied softly, his lips still at her ear, his breath coming out heavy as he fought his body.

"We...should wait to tell them until after they open their gifts a-AH!" Hermione gasped as he began to kiss her neck tenderly, then licked her behind her ear near the back of her neck and her nerves began to sing, tingling pleasantly in a way that made her shake in his arms.

"We do not have to tell them now," he purred, stroking her back up and down under her ship, reveling in the softness of her freshly-showered skin, "We can wait, you can have your perfect last Christmas. I will stay with you, if you wish me to do so."

Hermione turned to look at the gifts on the desk, the ones she would give her parents to start the change and she shook her head.

"But when could we do it?" she said, choking up a little, "There's almost no time left before...before school begins again."

Severus smiled sadly and caught her chin in his hand, raising her face to meet his eyes.

"We can compromise. New Years Eve. When the New Year comes to pass, we can tell them and begin your Australia Plan,"

"I-I don't-" Hermione was wiping tears on her sleeve, but doing her damnedest to keep her composure.

"And when your parents leave this place," he said intensely, refusing to break eye contact with her, "You will come and live with me for...for as long as you need."

He didn't bring up the fact that Hermione expected that something was going to happen, and his stomach twisted with nausea at the thought that he was forced to play an active part in that _something_. It was as though every time a true chance at happiness presented itself, there was always some inevitable force ready to snatch it away and rub salt in the wound at the same time. He did not want to give up _this_, all of the happiness that was finally growing into his life like a tree pulling up drab, gray pavement with shoots of vibrant life. Logically, he knew that he needed to keep up appearances, that he needed to play his part to bring the terror of Voldemort to an end, but at the same time, he knew that in all likelihood, he would never live to hear his child's first words.

'But at least Hermione's parents will keep the child safe,' he thought bitterly, hating the fact that it would have to be like this, that they would have to lose that which they had created together simply because of the Dark Lord and his plans. For the hundredth and certainly not the last time, he cursed Voldemort silently, hoping that he could keep himself under control well enough to continue to play the dutiful servant and not simply throttle the evil man by magically stuffing Nagini down his throat, not that it would kill him permanently or anything. Severus was under no delusions that there was something, some missing piece of the puzzle that Dumbledore was not telling him that was the key to truly defeating Voldemort once and for all, but the infuriating old coot wouldn't tell him what it was and it was driving him crazy. Potter was the key, he knew, but he didn't know _how_, and he knew that Dumbledore expected Hermione to be Harry's faithful human encyclopedia. Oh, how he wished he could just THROW an encyclopedia at the dunderheaded boy and keep her safe from harm. Not that Hermione would appreciate being forced to watch her friends go into grave peril without her. In the end, she would simply run off of she truly believed that she was doing the right thing, regardless of the danger.

"Severus?" Hermione was saying, stroking his face and looking concerned, "You went somewhere for a bit. What are you thinking about?"

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just looked at her in that pained, quiet way that she was becoming accustomed to seeing on his face when he thought she wasn't looking.

"That bad, huh?" she said gently, "I know, I know, you can't tell me, top secret, and all that. But even though I can't read your mind and I don't know the details, does it make it feel any better that I want to take it away, whatever it is that is bothering you? I want to turn it into a flea and put it in several boxes all taped up in paper with silver packing tape and mail it somewhere deep in the jungle in Central America or something with instructions to smash it with a hammer when it arrives. I'm certain that _someone_ will honor the request."

He grinned, despite himself at her ludicrous and convoluted idea, but imagining Voldemort as a flea _did_ make him feel a bit better.

"How did I get so lucky, to have someone like you in my life?" he said quietly, a hint of huskiness in his tone brought out from his earlier thoughts of doom and despair.

"I don't know," Hermione said, her smile wicked and sweet at the same time, "But do be sure to tell me when you work it out."


	74. Chapter 74

**Chapter 74: Day and Night**

Hermione was the designated present-passer-outer for the holiday gift exchange this year, and she tried to disguise her giggle as a cough when Severus sat down in the middle of the couch and her parents sat eagerly on either side of him, both looking askance at him as though he were visiting royalty. He caught her giggle and gave her an unamused eye-roll, which made her giggle harder, and eventually she coughed so loudly that her mother made her go to the kitchen and get a glass of water out of fear that Hermione was choking on something.

Surprisingly, Hermione's parents had presents for Severus to open, not that they were addressed to _him_ in particular. They had learned the hard way when members of Hermione's father's side of the family visited unannounced several years in a row in the past, and there were very sour looks when there were no presents for their surprise guests. So, every year after, a new Granger tradition was born. They would buy general items that people need and use, such as scarves, fruit preserves and spread gift baskets, hats, buttery shortbread biscuits, etc, and place them in unmarked boxes under the tree. If no one arrived on Christmas Day unannounced, they'd open the extra boxes for the fun of ripping the wrapping paper, donate all the clothing items to charity and eat the food items over the next couple of months as an extra family bonus. And if someone did stop by without warning, there was always at least a little _something_ for that person.

He looked rather awkward with the green, white and red scarf wrapped around his neck over all of his black clothing, almost as though he had some sort of terrible neck wound, but he allowed Hermione to wrap it around him, protesting all the while to make it look like he wasn't secretly pleased when her fingers brushed against his neck. He also had a biscuit tin, a box of Christmas tree shaped cookies, a selection of marmalade jars and a deck of muggle cards stacked next to him. Hermione got a number of useful books on magic from the list she'd given her mother, including a couple that she didn't recognize but still made her eyes light up when she touched the dust jackets. She also received some clothing, including one package that included underwear. She turned five shades of red when she realized what she was opening as Severus quirked an eyebrow mischievously over her parent's heads when they weren't looking and her mother apologized for not remembering having wrapped them. Hermione received a number of other muggle goods, including a couple of strange plastic shapes that Hermione called "cassette tapes," which were apparently a new method of storing music similar to records, and he marveled at how it was possible to store so much information on such a small device.

Hermione had purchased a number of gifts for her parents, including their favorite anti-cavity sweets (as well as a number of candies that still required one to brush), a hat and scarf for her father knitted with Gryffindor colors. Her mother received a pair of earrings and a necklace with a locket that opened up to say "A mother's love is forever" in fancy cursive letters.

"Oh, Hermione!" her mother said excitedly, "We should get one of those small moving pictures developed of you to put in here! It would be so lovely!"

Hermione smiled, but Severus noticed that the smile didn't reach her eyes, and she said nothing as her mother began showing it to him and politely told her that he thought it quite suitable for her.

They had roast goose for dinner, and no one seemed to think it strange that the professor stayed until long after it had gotten dark outside. Hermione's father coaxed him into having some wine, and he cajoled the Defense professor to talk about his experience in potions, especially seeing as this had been his specialty for years. Severus began to think that Hermione's father would have been a Slytherin if he hadn't been a muggle- the man could be more charming than Slughorn when he was at the top of his game, and that was saying something.

Hermione's mother, on the other hand, came across as a pure Ravenclaw personality- she wanted to know _everything_ and had a similar love of books as Hermione. She practically tackled her husband with glee when she received a first edition copy of the specialized integrated neuroscience book she'd been eyeing at the bookstore but had put off purchasing because of the cost. Although he had never had much luck in social situations, he began to feel almost comfortable by the end of the night when he finally bid them all good-night and left with a bag of leftovers that Hermione's mother insisted he take with him, along with his various gifts. Other than a handful of obligatory gifts he had received from Dumbledore as a student when he had stayed during the holidays and later on as a member of the faculty, these were some of the first gifts he had received in his entire life, and the twinge of joy he felt in his stomach when he looked down at the bag that held them was almost childishly exaggerated.

As he strode down to the end of the street where it was well and truly dark so he would not be seen if he Apparated, he took one last look at the little house where Hermione lived with her parents and a part of him finally understood exactly what it was to have a safe place with parents that truly cared and were capable of love. Hermione had something special, a home with people who welcomed her with open arms. And now, too, he was told that he was welcome to visit anytime, even though they still did not know the true nature of the relationship between himself and their daughter. The lights shone cheerily from the windows as he convinced himself that the blurriness of his sight was simply due to the lack of the light and that he most certainly _was not_ crying like a sentimental old fool at how much he wanted to go right back to that front door and feel that warmth envelop his body once more.

And it hurt more than it should to know that even that would not endure.


	75. Chapter 75

Author's Note: Judging from the lack of comments lately, it seems as though many of you are tired of seeing mushy stuff and silly Christmas fluff, so I think it's time to switch focus just a little bit so we can see a bit more suspense and action. As always, I adore it when you let me know what you think!

**Chapter 75: A Very Deadly Christmas for Mr. Malfoy **

Draco strode purposefully down Knockturn Alley, his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets and his face covered up to his nose in a green and silver scarf to protect against the biting cold in the air.

The bitterness in the air was reflected tenfold in his heart. He cursed himself for his stupidity, for his willingness to overlook any drawbacks in following his ambitions. Even his longstanding harem fantasy seemed to be part of another life, the delusions of a boy who thought he knew how to be powerful.

It was all a lie.

Now, he was almost desperate enough to amputate his own arm if it would also sever him from servitude to the Dark Lord. But he was beginning to understand that even if he did, even if he ran to the corners of the Earth, he would never be safe, never be truly free.

Thoughts like this seemed to twist themselves miserably into his waking thoughts, and they interrupted his sleep as well, wearing dark rings around his eyes and giving his face a sunken, corpse-like appearance. It hadn't helped that he had been humiliated, forced to watch the torture and murder of several people, including a girl who could not have been older than eleven.

Some of the Death Eaters joked about Voldemort feeding infants to Nagini, but luckily, Draco was still unsure as to whether this was true.

He hoped that he would never find out.

To avoid the evil lurking in his home, Draco spent a lot of time offering to do odd jobs and errands for the older Death Eaters. Some had seemingly innocuous hobbies, such as Fenrir Greyback's love of Exploding Snap or the Carrow siblings and their incessant hankering for sweets. Being as the Ministry was still not completely under Death Eater control, it was still not in the Death Eaters' favor if wanted criminals were found traipsing around where they could be easily recognized. PolyJuice was not always reliable and wore off at inconvenient times. But Draco was perfect. He was so young, no one suspected him of being directly involved. Sure, there were whispers about his disgraced father, but his money was still good and that was all that mattered.

Draco found himself developing a blanket of hatred that he wore around him for everyone and everything. Nothing got through it. It was safer. No one got hurt if he hated everyone equally, and this was especially true when applied to himself.

Professor Snape had spent so much time drilling Draco on proper Occlumens technique and on defending against the Imperius Curse that Draco had collapsed and slept until the following afternoon, not even remembering how he had gotten into bed. While a tiny part of him was thankful for the lessons, a good portion of him was embarrassed and furious at having been reduced to such a state by Voldemort and then paraded around like some kind of plaything, and for _Professor Snape _of all people! The worst of it was how he had allowed himself to promise anything for the safety of his mum. That was stupid of him. He would have to make a public show of his disdain for her at every possible moment that anyone could be watching to quell the insinuation that Draco could be controlled through his mother, even if it was, to some extent, true.

"Lookie what I foun' skulking about in alleys where 'e ough' not ta!"

Draco had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realize that something was wrong until a rough set of hands had yanked him into a narrow alleyway that stank of urine and refuse.

"Get off me!" he shouted, squirming futily against what seemed to be a brick wall with dirty yellow fingernails and breath that stank as though something had crawled under the stranger's tongue to die.

"Oooh, what a pretty face! I will relish taking it for my own!" A high voice trilled, and a hag with a long face that would have matched Wormtail's almost perfectly stepped from the shadows with a knife.

"D-don't even th-think about it!" Draco sputtered as he squirmed and bucked against his captor, "I'm a Death Eater!"

"That makes what I'm about to do all the more enjoyable," the woman said shrilly, her face breaking out into an unevenly toothy yellow grin.

"Your lot killed my best friend cuz she was standin' in the way! Didn' even bat an eye when they Avada'd her or nuffink," The wall behind Draco rumbled, tightening his grip.

"I actually think we'll be doing everyone a favor this time, Tavio," the woman said to her companion slyly. She was inches away, her eyes glowing golden as though she were burning from the inside out, "Fancy that! The Murderers of Malachi meting out justice better than the Ministry ever could!"

"I...have...money...give you..." Draco could barely breathe as the man Tavio crushed him as though Draco were trapped in the coils of a massive serpent. Which, all things considered, was actually quite ironic, considering that he spent a great deal of time in the company of a giant killer snake.

The urge to giggle madly was rising in Draco's stomach at how fitting it was to be murdered by psychotic murderers while attempting to avoid the psychotic murderers back at his family home, even as he began to feel darkness flickering around the edges of his vision. How he wanted to pull his wand! But it was tucked into his chest pocket, which was held tight by the massive arms of the man behind him, who must have had at least some mountain troll in him, as the skin on his hands was an almost blue gray, not to mention his sheer size.

"I wanna do 'im, Cernah, please?" Tavio said eagerly, "I wuhl jus' pop 'is 'ead off, like a little cork."

"Hold on, Tavio," Cernah said, cackling quietly, "I want to make him scream a little bit first. For Tarah. Let him breathe a little. So I can hear this little snake squeak."

"Yeah! For Tarah!" Tavio's grip loosened enough for Draco to breathe, and he gulped in the fetid air of the alleyway as though it were fresh as a spring breeze.

"Please...help..._agh_...please..._hurg_...help me," he gurgled pathetically, his eyes rolling back into his skull in a disoriented delirium.

A red-hot sensation of burning pain filled him as Cernah sliced a long, thin, deep cut through his coat sleeve and across the skin of his forearm and he was screaming and screaming with the pain of it, even as he felt himself going numb all over and the sound of his own screams seemed to recede far off in the distance as though they were coming from someone else's mouth.

And all he could think of were those huge, terrified eyes of the young girl that Aunt Bellatrix had tortured to death in front of him, and a small part of his brain wondered if his eyes were like that now: hoping against hope for mercy but finding none.


	76. Chapter 76

**Chapter 76: A Christmas Miracle **

"Draco, I thought that sounded like you!"

The curiously familiar, warm and distinctly female voice seemed to echo and amplify as the words coursed down the narrow alleyway, but Draco's mind was far too disorganized to reason out who was speaking.

A figure, ringed in light at the end of the narrow corridor, stood, details obscured by the backlight of the street behind her.

Draco briefly considered that he might possibly be hallucinating, but the hag's whiskers twitched with annoyance and she turned to face the newcomer, baring her buck teeth in a rat-like snarl.

"A friend come to die with you, eh boy?" she cackled madly, swinging her knife menacingly in the direction of the interloper.

With a rush of pain and fear, Draco tore himself from the stupor of shock as the figure stepped forward and he could see who it was, his heart beating faster, though the exact reason was unclear to even himself.

"Luna...no..." He rasped weakly, feeling utterly useless and despair in knowing it.

Luna was dressed in a pale, knee length, short sleeved ivory dress that fluffed out around her with plenty of ruffles and pleats. A matching parasol was held in one hand, her wand in the other as though she were conducting a silent symphony. Her hair fell in golden ringlets past her shoulders. It was as though she were on her way to a summer picnic, not in a dangerous side street off of Knockturn Alley in the dead of winter. The only hint that she was aware of the biting cold was the bright Ravenclaw scarf wrapped indulgently around her neck.

She smiled in that maddeningly familiar way, as though they shared a secret inside joke.

"Shh, Draco," Luna said dreamily, as though she were reassuring a child that there were absolutely no monsters under the bed, "It will be but the work of a moment."

Draco could only whimper in reply, as Tavio had begun squeezing him around the neck while singing over and over in a terrible throaty growl, "An' off pops 'is 'ead-O!"

"You should know it's not nice to kill people," Luna said, her grin gentle and disarming, "You do know that if you kill people, they die forever, right?"

"I don't make a habit of being nice, dearie. Come closer and I'll show you," Cernah said malevolently.

Luna closed her parasol slowly, tucking her wand behind her ear to free her other hand, her demeanor relaxed and calm, even as the hag with the knife sped towards her, closing the distance between them at a terrifyingly fast rate. She hooked the parasol into the back of her skirts somehow, and it hung like a tail down the back of her, which somehow seemed an entirely appropriate addition to her ensemble. Then she clicked her heels together, smiling wide as she did so and there was the sound of rushing wings and wind, and Luna wasn't where she had been before anymore.

"Where is she!?" snarled Cernah nastily, rounding on Draco and narrowing her beady eyes at him.

"Behi-" Tavio began, but he didn't have any time to finish the warning before Luna mysteriously dropped down as though she had flown down from the sky (though how she could manage this without a broom in sight was a mystery to Draco) next to the rat-faced hag and, still smiling enigmatically, she silently cast a Total Body Bind. The snarling statue of the woman, knife still in one hand, toppled over with a heavy thud.

"Cernah? Cerrrrrnahhhh!" Tavio wailed, dropping a nearly unconscious Draco onto the grimy cobblestones of the alleyway and bounded towards his fallen comrade.

"I gave her a chance, but she wouldn't listen. Stubborn and proud, just like a Wharpblat," Luna said, shrugging lightly, "But you know better, don't you, Tavio?"

The oafish face seemed to knot into a puzzled scowl.

"How d'ya know mah name?" he sniffed, still holding Cernah protectively.

"You're kind of a legend among those of us who research fantastic beings," Luna said, and she pulled a small book from the folds of her dress in a simultaneously casual and impossible manner, opening it to a page and then running her finger along the text, she read the words aloud, "Octavio Rupert Neary: known as one of the only troll/wizard hybrids in the wizarding world. Often finds himself falling in with thugs and criminals, as his intelligence, while twice as high as the average troll, is only half the level of the average wizard. Approach with caution. He dislikes large words or being called stupid."

As she read the passage, Draco crawled his way to cower behind the enigmatic Ravenclaw girl, still struggling to catch his breath and running his fingers over the reddish purple marks that ran painfully around his neck and were already starting to bruise.

"Oh dear," he heard Luna say.

"What do you mean by that?" Draco said, his eyes going wide with terror.

Luna pointed to Tavio, whose face was turning a funny shade of purple, the veins standing out in his mottled blue-gray neck like fat worms.

"Yah callin' meh stupid!?" Tavio bellowed, setting Cernah down with an unceremonious crash and turning on them.

"Oops, looks like we need to get going," Luna said cheerfully, as though the massive man who was drawing up to his feet was simply expressing his displeasure at her early departure.

"Where are we going to go?" Draco wailed hysterically, his eyes darting around for an exit that would hold off the charging maniac who was coming their way with a mighty desire to cause them harm.

"We go up of course," Luna replied, smiling at him dreamily, and she extended her hand to him.

Not sure what to expect, Draco put his shaking hand in hers and before he knew what was happening, she had pulled him up into a standing position and lifted him into her arms as though he were an old fashioned bride being carried over the threshold of the door to her new home.

"You might want to hold on," she told him thoughtfully, and he did, not sure what to expect, especially since she was shorter than him and somehow able to carry him as though he weighed nothing. Perhaps it was magic, but he didn't want to ask any questions, not with a wall of hurt on its way to mow them down.

"I'm sorry we can't stay, but it's been lovely meeting you, Tavio," Luna said, "Your compatriot, not so much. Maybe _you_ could teach her better manners."

The man made no motion to show that he had heard her words, but he hesitated for just a moment as he reached them. Luna clicked her heels together twice and with a sound like rushing wind, they rocketed high into the air.

Draco watched the alleyway getting smaller and smaller until it was a small black line on the landscape, his face gone ashen as he clung to the calm girl who merely smiled as he looked up at her. He found himself blushing despite himself as he admitted to himself that he was amazed that she could be so crazy and so awesome at the same time.

"Pegasus boots!" Luna shouted over the roaring wind, her cheeks red with the cold air and delight, "Daddy got them for me for Christmas! You fly using your spirit!"

Draco replied with a strangled squeak; he was eminently grateful when the wind around them roared more loudly than the pathetic sound he had made.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up!"

And with that, the two rocketed off, flying over the gray winter clouds that covered muggle London, no one below any wiser about where their journey would lead.


	77. Chapter 77

**Chapter 77: The Unpleasant Visitor **

"Daddy! I'm home!" Luna pushed her way through the rainbow colored door decorated with rune-like markings that Draco had never seen before.

"Um, it _is_ safe to come in, right?" Draco rasped dubiously, glancing instinctively at the arm where the Dark Mark squirmed languidly under his sleeve. His neck ached, and his brain was buzzing with leftover adrenaline from the flight and the attack before. He felt surprisingly alert for someone who had almost suffered a crushed windpipe.

"Oh, don't worry," Luna said airily, "It won't hurt you to come in unless you're a Grimlump in disguise."

"A.._what_?" Draco's voice cracked and he winced in embarrassment.

"Or a very small Nargle," Luna added thoughtfully, "Sometimes the babies affix themselves to your clothes when you're not looking."

Draco sudden felt a very strong urge to brush himself off hysterically, but he staid his hands as she met his eyes and smiled warmly at him again, clearly inviting him inside. She unhooked the parasol from behind her and set it against the side of the entryway wall with the tip down and then set to work unloving the Pegasus Boots from her feet with the relaxed and practiced ease of someone who had just returned to the comforting and familiar walls of her home.

_Home_.

Draco felt a stab of jealousy at the relaxed countenance of the girl before him. His home was the antithesis of this, all darkness, death and doom. And even before the manor had become Voldemort's evil little snake pit, it occurred to Draco that it hadn't ever felt like what home was supposed to feel, not really.

A strange, but not altogether unpleasant smell wafted through the door from further inside as Draco stood frozen on the front porch, and he wrinkled his nose appraisingly.

Luna followed his lead, closing her eyes and scenting the air like a rabbit in a meadow and she clapped her hands merrily.

"Looks like we are just in time for Daddy's special Christmas pudding!" She exclaimed, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him through the threshold, prompting a very surprised grunt as he barreled through the door and Draco felt as though he were dangling behind her with his feet barely able to take steps of their own as she practically sprinted down the crooked hallway in stocking feet with him in tow.

She _definitely_ was stronger than she looked.

Draco felt his cheeks reddening again, and he willed himself to choke down the butterflies that had sprung up in his belly.

They arrived in the kitchen and Luna's father turned, his eyes fluttering and crinkling into a dreamy smile, a smile that Luna had obviously inherited, though the crinkle around his eyes disappeared completely when he saw the sullen boy being pulled behind his beloved daughter.

"A friend, Luna?" he said lightly, but something stirred behind his eyes and Draco could see that they had hardened with a fierce look aimed on the younger Malfoy.

"Oh you know who he is, Daddy!" Luna said, her voice matching the lightness of her father's tone, "This is Draco. He needed help but was too proud to ask for any. So I saved him."

Draco remembered his pitiful begging at the foot of the murderous duo in the alley and decided not to correct her. He tried to smile, but his mouth crinkled all wrong, like a train where some of its cars had jumped the tracks, and it looked more like a demented grimace instead. Plus, he was feeling kind of light headed.

He couldn't make out what Luna was talking about. It was as though the words she was speaking had become vague shapes of sound, and as the meaning receded into buzzing background noise, he became very aware of the irregular beating of his own heart in his ears, but he couldn't seem to think of why it would be doing such a thing.

A warmth in his arm reminded him as he started to swoon, his eyes rolling back into his head like one of those dolls with open-and-shut eyes.

_Oh, right. Blood. The arm wound. _

He couldn't think much at all after that.

He was far too busy falling and falling forever into an absolute darkness.


	78. Chapter 78

**Chapter 78: Interference**

Draco opened his eyes and instantly regretted the decision. His skull felt as though it were being cleaved in two.

"Ugh," he groaned, closing them again.

He felt around himself, realizing that one of his arms was thickly bandaged with some strange smelling salve and when he realized he was wearing only his underpants, his eyes went wide almost involuntarily, and he groaned louder at the shock of light sensitivity. His wand was nowhere to be found and somehow, that made him feel more than naked.

"Don't worry, Draco, I cleaned your things. They were a bit worse for wear, so I had to wash them by hand. They're hanging up outside," a familiar spacy sort of voice said.

He blinked hard a couple times, letting his eyes adjust to see the girl sitting in a chair next to the bed. There seemed to be residual halo of light around her form, but perhaps this was because she was sitting in front of a window and his eyes were obviously not used to any amount of light.

His eyes snapped open wide with realization and he squeaked, pulling the covers up to his chin, but Luna just smiled.

"Why…?" he began and she put a finger to her lips, silencing him.

"You were bleeding badly, and it looks like Tavio put the squeeze on you...literally," she said, her voice seemingly uncharacteristically clear and focused, "Daddy helped with his special salve. It's actually a modification on the natural healing properties from Calypso Berries, a favorite snack for injured Warpsprigs."

"Did...did he…see?" Draco said, blanching noticeably.

"Don't worry, Draco," Luna said cheerfully, "I took your clothing off myself!"

"That! That was not what I asked!" his voice had a hysterical edge as he turned red, realizing that she must have misunderstood.

"I've never seen one up close," she continued, thoughtfully, "So I was curious. Daddy wasn't happy about leaving us alone, but I told him that there wouldn't be problem since you were obviously not in any state to take advantage."

"'Take advantage!' I never-" he spluttered.

"I know _you_ wouldn't, you were unconscious," Luna said mischievously, looking at something on the wall near the ceiling that seemed to be invisible. Oh. How curious."

Instinctively, Draco looked to where she was staring, but saw nothing whatsoever.

"What is it?" he asked, grateful for the distraction as he used his uninjured arm to pull up the comforter.

All this talk about taking advantage of him was affecting him in an inconvenient sort of way. A part of him felt kind of amazed that it even worked after all that blood loss. Or maybe it was less than he had thought. He closed his eyes again, basking in the relief of the darkness behind his eyelids. He had always hated the sight of his own blood, and the only thing he hated even more was the fact that he knew that this made him a craven coward. What kind of Death Eater faints after one cut? Or screams bloody murder at the first sign of trouble and turns tail and runs? He'd seen Snape's scars wrapping up from his wrist to his bicep like tiny white snakes when he'd pulled up his sleeve to show Draco his Dark Mark. It gave a whole new meaning to the ridiculous full body robes that he wore in even the most sweltering heat. If a pathetic bastard like that could get so many wounds, then why couldn't he?

And the worst thing was how Snape had told him to use his cowardice as a strength. To play the incompetent fool, just enough to be overlooked but not enough to be disposed of out of sheer uselessness. If anything, that was _more_ difficult than bragging and acting like a cocky bastard, because at least those things both came naturally to him without choking him with a sinking sense of mortification.

A soft sound of shuffling cloth and the feeling of weight shifting near his body interrupted his thoughts.

"Nargle for your thoughts?" Luna said, her face inches from his when he finally opened his eyes again, and even with his blurry vision and the slight stab of pain twisting between both halves of his brain, he could see tiny, golden flecks in her icy blue eyes.

"Aauuugh!" he shouted shrilly in surprise, throwing himself backwards and whacking his head against the headboard of the bed.

"That looked painful. Let me check it."

"Gerroff!" he slurred uncomfortably, flailing his arms in front of his face without thinking, feeling the pain flare in the one that had been bandaged along with a new aching bump on the back of his skull.

"Don't be such a stubborn Galoot," she said, wrinkling her nose, and he realized that even though her tone of voice was still incredibly light, she was actually annoyed. Spending time trying not to get on the wrong side of psychopaths seemed to have sharpened his ability to read the emotions of others. Not that it was any help with taming his prideful tongue.

"I'll be fine," he scoffed, rubbing the sore spot with his free hand, not even noticing that the sheets had fallen to his waist when he'd dropped them in his surprise.

"Let me touch it," she said intensely, still bent over his naked chest slightly looking up at him in the same position as she'd been before he'd thrown himself backwards, her arms on either side of his body, and he went scarlet when he realized that her chest was level with his groin and she was so close that she was almost touching him.

"Your head, silly," she replied, laughing.

He looked away, narrowing his eyes, trying to compose himself.

"Of...of course. I knew that," he mumbled, then, "No, I meant, I'm really-"

He gasped involuntarily at the feeling of her body touching his when she closed that tiny distance as she moved up to wrap a hand around the back of his head, and he felt goosebumps rise on his arms as she ran her fingers gently against his scalp, feeling for the lump that was rising near the back of his head.

"You...you really shouldn't," he said, forcing himself to look at the blank spot she'd been staring at earlier before his body betrayed him. He wasn't sure it would be enough. It had been too long since anyone had touched him with anything resembling affection. A part of him thought of Rosmerta, her eyes far away under the Imperius Curse, sitting at his feet like a dog and looking devastated when he had forbidden her to pleasure him. He felt himself twitch involuntarily and tried not to groan. Between the pain of his injuries and the pleasure of..._whatever this was_, his brain was beginning to go fuzzy around the edges, and he could see a strange flickering in the corner, as fluffy black spots hovered and jumped erratically around something coiled and papery, almost like a wasp's nest.

"You can see it too, can't you?" Luna asked, cocking her head to the side, following his line of sight, "I only just noticed the nest last week when I came home for the break. Flibbly-Wibkins only nest in empty rooms, though, and they'll abandon their young if you disturb them too long. I've been sleeping downstairs on the sofa because I don't want them to leave before their young have hatched. They're very rare, you know. But I didn't think it will be a problem for you to be here for a little while, besides, you aren't used to being comfortable are you?"

Draco's stomach flipped. How had he not noticed he was in a girl's bed? The multi-colored scarves hung from the ceiling over her bed like a silken rainbow should have tipped him off, but somehow he hadn't been able to make the connection until she had said it. The walls looked half-painted with a mural of swirling stars and grassy hills. It was like something from a dream. A large number of paints and brushes sat on a work table with a muddy looking glass full of water and a number of dirty palettes.

She drew back and he realized that he hadn't been breathing. He sucked in a ragged breath, his nerves firing off strange bursts of not altogether unpleasant sensation.

"You'll have a goose-egg," she said, looking into his eyes and he looked away before she could catch his full-on, "But I suspect you'll be _just fine_, won't you?"

"I….yes….fine…" he said haltingly, as though he wasn't sure himself, his stupid pride disallowing him from showing even a moment of weakness. The weight of his self-loathing pressed against his chest. He swallowed a lump that had risen in his throat and blinked uncomfortably.

And then she was close to him, so close her lips whispered against his ear and her curls brushed against his jaw as she touched the side of his face, drawing two fingers under his chin as she angled his face up. He hadn't even seen her move. The lump grew larger, and he couldn't deny that it was not totally unwelcome as the heaviness evaporated, leaving him with a fluttering sensation like wings beating against his breast. She was so strong. He was so weak. But in that moment, under the scent of her hair and skin, under the light touch of her fingers, he honestly didn't care.

"When you're ready," she whispered, so low that he almost didn't hear her words.

Drawing back, she gave him that secret smile, the one that made her look like she knew more about him than he knew about himself.

"You'll want to join us in the kitchen when you've put on some things," she said brightly, turning and pulling a couple of large, purple and orange robes from the trunk behind her, "Daddy keeps his extra clothing in my room when I'm at school. His room doubles as his printing press, so he needs the room and I don't mind since I'm not usually here. They'll be a little big, but your clothes are too wet right now, and you don't need a cold on top of your other injuries."

She placed the robes on the bed and then sat there quietly, regarding him with her strange, piercing eyes, as though waiting for something.

"Um…." he said, trying to keep his voice even, "I need some privacy if I'm going to get dressed."

She made a noise in the back of her throat almost as though she were disappointed and had been hoping to watch, but her face betrayed no outward emotion as she stood up and skipped over to the door, pulling it open and then disappearing behind it.

As he reached for the clothing, allowing the sheets to fall back down to his waist, the band of his shorts poking out the top, she poked her head back in, and he froze mid-reach as she regarded him quietly.

"I almost forgot," she said in that hauntingly spacy voice, "Be careful not to sing in French. The Flibbly-Wibkins might attack you. It scares them."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Draco muttered as his face flushed involuntarily and he was incredibly relieved when she shut the door and he heard the sound of lightly skipping feet on the floor outside the door slowly recede.

As though in protest, his brain suddenly remembered an old French lullaby his mother used to sing when he was very young. It repeated itself maddeningly in his head until he felt compelled to sing it.

He hummed very quietly as he dressed himself gingerly, forgoing the words just in case Luna was right.


	79. Chapter 79

**Chapter 79: Seeing Stars**

Draco had managed to dress in the ridiculous robes belonging to Luna's father, rolling up the sleeves, as they were at least a foot too long. He smoothed back his hair, which was loose and messy from his wild ride through the skies. It would have been nice to have a mirror, but then again, he wasn't sure he wanted to look at his face after all the ugly crying and choking he'd been doing recently. He put a hand to his bruised neck and instantly regretted it. Even with a loose wrapping of bandages, any pressure on the skin made his tendons tighten in sharp agony. He took a couple deep breaths until the pain began to subside.

He was getting better at enduring pain.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Part of him wanted to just escape from the room itself, bad manners and injuries be damned, but he knew that his wand wasn't in the room. He'd checked as soon as he'd gotten dressed. And he was on an upper floor of the house. He'd looked out the rounded window (still wincing a little bit at how bright it was outside for such an overcast winter day) and estimated that it was at least the third floor but he couldn't be sure, as the shape of the house was so strangely curved and tall, like a lighthouse or the tower of a castle. Leaving the room non-magically would be disastrous at best. And part of him, a part that he vehemently tried to ignore, actually _wanted_ to go downstairs and see Luna again. Maybe not her father after the way he'd looked at him, as though he were some kind of snake come to strike down his beloved daughter. Well, maybe some of that was true. With his father openly exposed as a Death Eater, there was plenty of disgrace to go around, and besides, in a very twisted sort of way, he'd be right.

Draco had tried to be evil. He was an insufferable asshole to people he didn't like, a bastard to many of those whom he called friends, and didn't mind causing pain to others if it brought him gain. But evil? On that point, he was still unsure. He was sure that if anyone asked Potter, he'd be quick to send Draco to Azkaban to rot with his father, but increasingly, he wondered if there was anything to be said about a change of heart, or simply trying to figure out how to survive. After all, it's not like _Potter_ had to live in a house full of terrorists. Or have his parents used as bargaining chips and hostages.

Draco knew that it was wrong of him to be jealous of an orphan, but a part of him would have been happier to live without the fear that his parents would be snatched away from him at any moment, if all he had to remember them by were vague memories from infancy and a sense that he was missing _something_.

He touched his earlobe absentmindedly and remembered her words.

_When you're ready_.

He wasn't sure he would ever _be_ ready. But a part of him was deeply grateful that _someone_ had noticed, had offered even a tiny glimmer of understanding, even if he never took her up on her offer.

He opened the door as quietly as possible, wincing when the hinges squeaked, and made his way towards the stairs, which twisted down and spiraled around steeply like the shell of a nautilus, the steps made of curled metal designs with plenty of open space between them. Draco realized that the stairs looked more rickety than they actually were as he stepped onto them, and though a brief sensation of vertigo overtook him at first, once he recovered he found himself able to reach the first floor landing with ease as long as he held the hem of the robe in the front so that he didn't accidentally step on it and fall. The two Lovegoods stopped talking and looked up at him as he descended.

"My Luna has told me all about your...situation. Anyone she calls friend is obviously an honored guest in our home," Xenophilius looked at Draco and his eyes were no longer hard, but the lines set around his jaw told another story- he was anxious and he had a hand on his daughter's shoulder as though her were about to throw her behind him in defense of some attack.

"You're always welcome here, Draco," Luna said, smiling wanly, "Whenever you need it. That includes even if you don't think you do but you're lying to yourself about it."

Draco met her statement with a puzzled look as he tried to parse out the meaning and, seeing the strangely colored food item sitting in a pan on the table, he gave up trying to figure it out.

Instead, he pointed to the curious baked item and asked, "What exactly is...that?"

"Oh, that's what I mentioned earlier!" Luna said, her voice breathy and excited, "Daddy's specialty- Nebula Pudding! But we have to eat it all today or it will draw herds of Snorffles. They stampede easily, you know."

Draco did not know what to say to this, so he decided that he'd just be quiet, a skill that he'd been perfecting over the past year, even though he had to fight years of being given carte blanche to run at the mouth to his heart's content, so the struggle not to say something cruel was still an almost automatic reaction.

Xenophilius turned to a cupboard that was splattered with multiple colored droplets of mysterious dried liquid. It might have been paint or old food. The kitchen itself was so cluttered and filled with items that it was hard to be sure. He pulled out a strange implement, something that looked a bit like a spatula, but instead of a flat head, it had a strange, metal scoop like implement with tiny star-shaped holes spread across it. The man pulled out his wand, which had been hidden behind his long, fluffy candyfloss hair, and Draco wondered if Luna had learned to store her wand behind her ear from her father, or if her father had seen Luna's penchant for storing her wand so oddly and decided she was a genius.

He pulled the end of the implement onto the tip of his wand. Apparently, it was hollowed out within the handle. Draco had not gotten a very good look at it. It slipped over the wand like a glove down to the end of it.

"Now, then," Xenophilius clapped his free hand on Draco's shoulder, pushing him down into a seat and then moved in front of the strange, multi-colored dish. Luna sat across from him, giving him a wide-eyed look and that puzzling secretive smile again. She pushed a small mitt across the table at him and he copied her as she put one of her own on her right hand. He found himself being far less annoyed by her way of being infuriatingly enigmatic than before. It was as though she had this way of weaving eccentricities with an innate endearing quality that slowly but surely disarmed anyone around her. Once he had realized it, it struck him as incredibly clever indeed. No wonder she was in Ravenclaw!

But he managed to keep his face neutral as he watched Xenophilius close his eyes and concentrate on something in his head.

"_Stella….Procursus_," there was a timbre and power in the man's voice that hadn't been there before as he waved the implement over the table, and Draco watched, open-mouthed as the pudding rose into the air and began to glow, bursting apart and holding in a strange pattern, almost like a burst of fireworks spreading outward, glowing in multiple colors. Suddenly, large, star-shaped pieces of pudding began to fly out into the air, and Luna caught the first piece, shoving it in her mouth with a gigantic grin. Draco narrowly avoided having one smash into the side of his face, pulling the glove in front of him just in time. When he opened his glove, it was as though a quivering star had fallen from the heavens into his hand. He followed Luna's lead and placed it into his mouth. It felt like cool sparks were bursting on his tongue and as he swallowed the morsel, he could feel his insides fill with a tingling sense of power and pleasure.

It was absolutely _delicious_. Easily the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life.

Xenophilius had grabbed a glove of his own from somewhere and was obviously an old pro at this tradition, as he caught multiple stars in his glove at once with a graceful dive to the tiled floor, which was impressive, seeing as they were shooting around the room in bursts of color and light. If they didn't hit someone, they'd twirl in the air in place, return to the big mass in the middle of the room that floated like a disco ball and then spin out again, bursting towards one of the three people running and laughing as they caught bursts of light and ate it.

Draco wasn't sure when he had begun to grin, and when the first peals of laughter burst from his lips, he almost fell over in shock. But one look at the other two running around in the bursts of light and spinning stars in the air showed him that they too were filled with the same joy as himself. And as he caught his tenth star, he found himself skipping and spinning and turning and whooping. He scooped up two more stars and ducked as a third zoomed down and almost his his head, laughing when Luna swooped in out of nowhere and caught it and their eyes met as they stuffed the stars in their mouths like children with matching smiles at the sensation of fuzzy sparks tickling their throats.

When it was all over, they sat at the table, all of them stuffed and sated from the eccentric meal they had just consumed.

"That was…." Draco said, breaking the silence, "...magical…"

Luna's laugh filled the room like small silver bells, "It was one of my mother's spells. I think that was the first time we've been able to eat all of it in one go...since..."

She seemed to remember something and went silent, looking at her father, whose face had fallen from sated mirth to an almost tragic scowl.

"Where is she? I'll have to thank her for her ingenuity," Draco said offhandedly and immediately he could feel the air in the room change.

"Oh, my sweet Pani!" Xenophilius cried out, his head lolled backwards over the chair, and he pulled himself up, tears pouring down his face, "If you'll excuse me!"

And he was running up the stairs and out of sight in moments. A small piece of plaster cracked down off of the ceiling as Draco heard a loud "THUMP" from the second floor.

He looked back over at Luna, who was intently studying the patterns of the wood on the table in front of her.

"We lost my mum a few years before I started school. It was an experimental spell and it backfired on her," Luna said without looking up, her voice heavy, "I miss her. This was one of her most popular spells. After she died, though, no one wanted to touch any of her spells, even the ones that had been already approved by the Ministry. It was like she had never existed. The spells that she was so proud of, that brought joy to families, to _my_ family, were treated as though they were inherently dangerous because of her final mistake. They simply...erased her. All I have left are the whispers of disgrace. One accident and she was defined by it and there was nothing we could do about it."

She stood suddenly, whacking her hands on the tabletop loudly and Draco jumped backwards, almost falling out of his chair.

"So when I tell you that I know what it feels responsible for your parents' mistakes, that special hell of living in guilt at surviving, I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about," Luna said seriously, her eyes full of piercing intensity, "My mum told me not to disturb her that day. I didn't listen. I wanted to show her the drawings I had finished while watching Plimpies down at the riverside. The door was locked. I don't know why I did it, but I just _had_ to see her. The door just _opened_ when I stood there in front of it and wanted it badly enough. I didn't know that I was walking in on the last couple touches of very volatile spellcraft. I will always remember that last look she gave me, when she turned and I called to her and her eyes opened wide with fear and it was so slow like time decided to draw out the moment and I saw the blast building behind her and then _something bright_ came out of her hand and covered me and I watched her spell tear her apart in front of me and I walked away from it without even a scratch. She protected me. And I...I _killed_ her. If I had only listened...wasn't so excited..."

She sat down hard, her skirts whispering around her legs as she did so, and covered her face with her eyes. Draco froze, unsure of what to do, and when she pulled up her knees on the chair, pulling her arms around them and burying her face into her knees, he felt the compulsion to get up and comfort her, even though he didn't quite know _what_ to do. Pansy had demanded that he hug and kiss her a couple times, but it was that cold, uncomfortable sort of physical contact that didn't inspire much in the way of bringing relief. And when it came to the barmaid…he cringed inwardly remembering his earlier behavior.

Still, he stood up, awkwardly rounding the table and placed one hand on her shoulder. She became very still and rigid, but she stayed as she was, and he hesitantly rubbed his hand across her back, almost like he was petting a cat, feeling a small surge of pride when he felt the muscles in her back slowly relax under his touch.

"My...father…" he started, surprised at the small catch in his throat as he started talking about it, "He...well, he's in Azkaban right now. And The Da-er-You-Know-Who was furious…well, I stepped up and volunteered myself to take his place. It was me or my mum, and I thought that I could protect her and gain my own power at the same time, step out of my father's shadow."

She turned her head, and he could see her nose and her lips still flushed red from crying silently, her eyes still covered by ringlets of hair.

"You're not your father, Draco," she said, and he could hear the grief running thickly in her voice.

"I know that!" he said sharply, "I just...it was such a habit. He was _everything_ at home, the center of the goddamn universe! My mum and I, we played our roles per his expectations, and he gave us stuff, anything we wanted. I just...it's what I knew. I don't really talk about this stuff with anyone, really, but for some reason…."

They were both silent, listening to themselves breathe in the room and looking up at the ceiling at the sound of distant intermittent thumping from above.

"Thank you for telling me, Draco," Luna said suddenly, and she turned her head around, her hair falling away from her eyes, and she stared at him intensely as though she were looking inside of him. It made him want to run away; it was like being stripped naked in front of those icy eyes.

"I...I'm not sure why...I just wanted to, I guess," Draco said bashfully, then adding more sharply, "But it's not like anyone's going to believe you, even if you tell them. They don't call you 'Loony' for nothing."

"I am quite aware of what they call me, thank you Draco," Luna replied airily.

"And I know that that there are a number of worse things that they call me, even among my fellow Slytherins," Draco said, his face turning red, "Even Crabbe and Goyle are basically only following me out of fear and Zabini has been overly obvious about only hanging out with me because he wants Pansy, and Pansy is only with me because she thinks I'm pure-blooded enough a match, and even that's not been enough lately because of my father's disgrace. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I knew how the world was supposed to work, how things were supposed to be when I became an adult. And now I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do. No one's directions make any sense. It's like the adults are just making shit up as they go."

"They are," Luna replied sagely and Draco stared agog at her, "Making shit up, that is. The scariest thing about becoming an adult is realizing exactly how little is _supposed_ to be any sort of way."

Draco felt that he was on the cusp of understanding her words, but something still blocked him from fully realizing what it was.

"There's nothing to keep every tradition from falling apart, from redefining what anything and everything actually means, good or bad," Luna said sanguinely, "There's nothing that says that pure-blooded families are superior etched into the fabric of our universe, and in fact, I would say that those of us who are kept ignorant of the muggle are being kept ignorant of some incredibly important things about how our world operates. After my mum died, I realized that there's no such thing as forever. There's no happiness that can't be snatched away or sadness that can't be cut short by levity. There's no life that will escape death. There's no guarantee of tomorrow or of the experiences you expect to repeat themselves."

"And that's…." Draco froze, his eyes going wide with realization.

"Terrifying," Luna finished, and her face twisted into a small smile, one that said _you're learning._

"But I _have_ to...he'll _kill_ me...kill my mum too..." Draco mumbled, falling to his knees and wincing at the pain.

"Draco, it's not up to you to fix everything by yourself, or to tear it down either. I know someone...well...he's a lot like you. Thinks that he needs to save the world singlehandedly. But what he often seems to forget is that there's only one way to make the world better, to truly save it."

"And what's that?" Draco said sullenly, thinking that he knew exactly _who_ Luna was referring to.

"Friends," Luna replied simply, "It took me awhile to figure it out because I'd never had any before last year, not really. I tried to do everything myself for awhile. I didn't want to hurt anyone else, not after mum. But it's not all up to me. Or you. That's just not how it works. So I decided that I'd do what I could with what I had available to me. And my friends…"

She paused, smiling with a very faraway expression that gave Draco a twinge of longing in his stomach.

"My friends taught me something," she said, putting out a hand of her own and stroking his chin slightly as he looked up at her, still on the floor. He made no move to push her away, so the hand stayed, light and soft against his skin.

"And what was that?" he gulped, his brain becoming distracted by the sensation of touch.

"When you think you're alone, that you're over your head and you call for your friends to help you, that's when the magic happens," Luna said matter-of-factly.

"Well, that's easier for you to say," Draco grumbled, "I'm the evil son of a Death Eater, and I even got Marked to take my father's place. No one will save me if I'm in grave peril, especially not _Potter_ and his friends. I missed my opportunity to make real, true friends the second I decided that my pride and ambition was more important than my soul."

"_We're _friends, though, aren't we, Draco?" Luna said, and she'd turned and drawn her face close to his so quickly that he almost jumped back when he noticed that she was close enough to press her lips to his if she moved any closer to him. He felt his body react pleasurably to the feeling of her breath against his face, and his eyes were wide as though fearful, a look that he realized with shame was becoming his natural expression.

"I..I suppose," he choked out, frozen in her gaze, and he could feel his heart beat faster when he saw her smiling gently at his words.

"I know that you're thinking that I could kiss you, but I'm not going to do that to you unless you ask me," she said suddenly, and the blush rose hotly across his face all the way up to his hairline.

"Wha-what makes you think I'd ever want to!" he said, his voice cracking slightly again, and he cursed his lack of poker face when confronted with this infuriatingly enigmatic girl.

She drew back, still smiling.

"As you wish," she said, drawing back and running a finger across his lips and under his chin.

He shivered at her touch again, and she mouthed the words _when you're ready_ to him as she stood up and started up the stairs before turning and looking at him once more.

"I'm going to go check on Daddy. Your clothing is dry- it's just outside on the line. You can change in the loo down and around next to the entryway. I'll meet you outside and fly you back to London when you're ready, if you want. I promise, I won't tell a soul if you won't."

"I can agree to that," Draco said slowly, and though his heart was leaping uncomfortably in his chest as she skipped over and hooked her pinkie finger in his, he could feel a familiar sensation of butterflies bubbling up from somewhere deep within him.

As he watched her disappear up the stairs, he realized that, for the first time that he could remember, he was feeling a quiet thrumming sense of _happiness._

And as he shuffled off to grab his clothing, he wondered why in the world he even deserved a moment of it.


	80. Chapter 80

_Author's Note: Well, hello there, dear readers! Are we already to Chapter 80? The mind boggles. I'm hoping to finish this story within the next couple of weeks, but I just want to warn you ahead of time that there will be angst and sadness. _

_Also, are you curious about exactly how Luna and Draco's relationship will continue to develop? Is there more on the horizon? Just because they didn't end up married in the books doesn't mean that things can't get...more interesting, right? I'm still not sure myself, but I would love to hear your thoughts. _

_I know that Lily is basically the least popular character next to Voldemort in this story, but this chapter needed to be written and it will factor in to how things will progress later on. So without further ado, I present Chapter 80!_

* * *

**Chapter 80: The Smoky Temptress**

The small clear bottle sat on the metal tray innocuously.

The man sitting in front of it with his fingers steepled in front of his large, hooked nose, however, was not fooled.

As though in reply, a couple bubbles appeared at the bottom and a sound like a muffled voice vibrated against the stopper.

He bent forward, bringing his eyes level with the bottle.

"I am going to open the seal," he said slowly and clearly, "If you fight me, I _will_ use a Disruptus spell and you will be destroyed. Lily or no Lily. One bubble means yes. Two bubbles means no."

A singular bubble floated to the top of the bottle.

His eyebrow arched as though in reply and he pulled his wand, sitting back before breaking the seal.

The liquid quivered momentarily and then expanded upward into a giant cloud of red gas.

Black eyes widened as a familiar head appeared at the top of the cloud, then a neck and naked shoulders. The green eyes of the entity stared at him in a familiar way, one that made his chest throb with sadness when he realized that behind those eyes was an unfamiliar coldness.

"Hello there, Sev," Lily's voice said mockingly, "I was feeling a bit cooped up in there. Wanna play?"

Some_thing_ was wearing Lily's image like a puppet, and he did _not_ like it, not at all.

"I would appreciate it if you would drop the act," he hissed testily, "I will not be falling for your ridiculous attempts to seduce me. I know what you are."

"Oh Sev, don't be like that," Lily pouted, sticking out her bottom lip in an exaggerated manner, grinning a little when his expression darkened further.

"I have done a number of diagnostic spells in regards to your...situation...and I must confess that I cannot seem to separate the two of you. The soul fragment that's left over is far too delicate to remove on its own," Severus said, pacing back and forth and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was obviously exhausted and greasy strings of his hair hung in his face and stuck to his neck.

"And you want _me_ to help you? Not on your life! The only thing that keeps me alive is holding onto your precious _first wuv_," Lily sneered, and it was not an attractive look.

"You are attempting to get a rise out of me, but you will find that I am more of an expert at _that_ particular skill," he sneered back, "And no, I am not asking for your help. I am _telling you_ that if you do not cooperate with me, I will make sure that your remaining moments on this plane of existence are _extremely_ miserable."

"Oh, what, are you going to force me to live a day in your life?" Lily's face drew into a snarl like a feral animal, and something monstrous and impossibly huge shifted behind those eyes.

"Very witty," he said sarcastically, though he was obviously not amused, "The final spell that I need to try requires me to let you out of your bottle, which is why I did it, but I will require your cooperation."

"Oh really?" Lily's teeth had become jagged and sharp, her grin stretching impossibly wide.

"I was not finished," his eyes were flashing, and he showed no other expression beyond disdain, "I will require your cooperation _or_ _you will die_. Cease to exist. Extinguish. Do you understand?"

"Am I to believe that you think me fool enough not to know that you want to kill me and save your precious little childhood friend?"

Her green eyes were blazing now. Inhuman.

"I have done several tests. Separating the two of you is next to impossible without destroying both of you. In fact, I have need of your...particular qualities. The Dark Lord has begun to notice that he has not received even a hint of a surge of power from my Mark recently, a surge that only you can facilitate. At some point, his suspicions will be confirmed, and I do not wish to have that conversation or endure the subsequent torture."

The Lily-creature licked her lips and he thought he could detect a slightly forked black tongue playing around the jagged teeth.

"Why would you tell me this? It's not like I have much of a choice," the thing said, using its sweetest Lily voice, "If you keep me in this bottle, I know that I will die. Without suffering to absorb, I will slowly starve to death. And I'll take your favorite red-haired girl with me."

"Why indeed?" he pursed his lips grimly, "Why would I tell you this? First of all, you are tied to my lifeline- you are fed from my actions, so I know that you cannot benefit from alerting the Dark Lord. Secondly, you need to understand that you cannot fight the spell once I cast it. I will be trying some very experimental magic. We will only have one chance to make it work. If the worst were to happen, both you and Lily's soul-fragment will cease to exist and I will...suffer for it as well."

The room was silent for many long moments before the scarlet cloud shifted, and he could see that there were two faces in the mist, one familiar, one barely human that stood behind her like a red shadow. Long claws encircled her shoulder like ridges.

"You shouldn't do this for me," Lily said, and he could hear that it was her, _really her_ voice coming through, "I'm not worth it."

"There are more reasons than one for why I must attempt this tonight, reasons that I cannot in good conscience go into at this moment," he said sadly, "But please do understand that I never meant for you to come to harm, and that I need both of you to return to your original place if I am to continue."

He rolled up his sleeve, and all eyes were on the squirming Mark that lay upon the flesh of his forearm. The snake was coiling and twisting so violently that it seemed ready to slide out from under his skin.

"I can give you power. Power to change the world. Power that will make your enemies as nothing," Lily's voice had gone deep and dark until it wasn't her voice at all.

"I am not doing this for myself. But it must be done," he said somberly.

"I missed that scent," the Schadenspiritus said deeply, obscuring the girl completely, its face looming large in red smoke as though it had been cast from fire itself, "The smell of your pain and loathing. I will acquiesce to your request, if only to taste it firsthand once more. But I warn you that if you try anything funny, I will have no problem taking the remaining piece of the girl out with me and savor the sweet taste of your utter despair once more before I fall to nothingness."

Severus said nothing, though the tendons on his neck began to stand out as he set his jaw. Without another word, he pulled his wand and began the incantation, and an orange light shot from the tip of the wand and began to glow over the contents of the bottle, tendrils of power then creeping over to his Mark, siphoning the red substance that contained both the Schadenspiritus and the shard of Lily's soul that he'd tried so hard to protect in vain.

Rebinding the Schadenspiritus to his Mark was going to be incredibly painful, whether or not it actually worked, and he knew it. He focused on the words and the wand movement, willing his conscious mind into that place deep and far inside of himself that allowed him to function and retain control even under extreme torture and abuse.

As his nerves began to shriek with red-hot pain, he told himself that he deserved this torture and more. And even as his mind reeled and faltered as he fought the urge to scream, he tried to remind himself that this too would be over soon enough.

But it did not make him feel better at all.


	81. Chapter 81

**Chapter 81: Resolution**

Hermione looked around her room with a mixture of pride and sadness. The magical effect that shimmered over the room was barely noticeable to even a trained eye. To a muggle, the room would look dusty and unused, and wards near the door would make the eye slide off to either side of the entrance to her room, rendering it nearly invisible. If someone were to persist in entering, a number of spells would make the interloper feel a heady sense of wrongness and soon after an irresistible urge to run to the toilet. That last addition was in part inspired by her own bladder issues, which were getting worse and worse as the pregnancy was progressing. She was lucky that even without the special garment she had received at Christmas, she merely looked like she had put on some holiday weight due to overindulgence. Still, she felt better about herself with its silky fibers pressed against her skin under her outfit.

The last few days had been spent gathering everything she wanted to take with her into the small beaded handbag, which she then stuffed into her school bag. She resolved to keep it by her side at all times, on the off-chance that she needed to escape and go into hiding at a moment's notice.

She knew that while Voldemort may not be snatching people from the streets in broad daylight yet, there were still plenty of regular disappearances, especially when it came to those who were known as muggleborn. As a known friend of Harry's, she might as well have had a giant target on her back. She didn't doubt that Voldemort would be willing to stoop to kidnapping to draw out The Boy Who Lived, and Hermione was not going to play the damsel in distress if she could avoid it.

She had been pleasantly surprised that the beaded handbag, far from being empty, had been full of a number of potions sealed in vials that were charmed to be unbreakable. A number of books had been tucked into it as well, many with notes written in the margins in his familiar jagged script. For some reason, this gave Hermione a sense of déjà vu, but she couldn't place the memory, and eventually she shrugged it off as unimportant.

Finally, she had finished every single preparation that had been on her list (she was a big fan of lists- they helped her order her thoughts). And _he_ was late. There had been no message, and Hermione knew that it was quite possible that he'd been summoned and would be unable to tell her. For all she knew, he'd be stuck in the presence of the Dark Lord until they returned to Hogwarts.

Hermione would have to do this alone. She was ready but she didn't feel ready.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," she corrected herself out loud, speaking to the empty room.

The two packages were on the bed, wrapped in blank white paper. She had removed the wrapping paper charms that had marked them as Christmas gifts but hadn't had the heart to put new patterns on them. To some extent, it seemed almost poetic. Gifts that would wipe the slate clean wrapped in cleansing white.

She sat down on her bed gingerly, which was now stripped down to the mattress and charmed to look dusty and unused. She knew that she needed to get to work on erasing herself from the rest of the house, but a part of her just wanted to lay down and sleep the day away.

Or maybe she could just pull her comforter out of her bag and hide under the covers until Voldemort was vanquished once and for all.

She groaned, ruffling her hair back and forth until it practically stood out on both sides of her head in two giant tufts. Finally, she sat up, taking a couple deep breaths, smoothed down her hairs as much as she could with her hands, rose to her feet hesitantly and headed reluctantly downstairs.

"You can do this, Hermione," she said quietly to herself through gritted teeth as she started down the stairs, carrying the packages.

She didn't want to do it, but she knew in her heart of hearts that it was the only way.

* * *

Severus Snape Apparated into Hermione's room and almost fell to the floor on his unsteady, shaking legs. He felt like an idiot, but that was not to be helped, and he recovered quickly, throwing his hand out onto the windowsill for support. Immediately, he sensed that something was very, very wrong.

At a first glance, the room appeared to be abandoned, a fine mist of dust covering everything. It felt off, like there was a layer of _wrongness_ to the room itself. Without warning, he found himself having to piss like a racehorse, and fled from the room towards the upstairs bathroom.

Hermione heard her bedroom door bang open just as she reached halfway down the stairs, and she turned and ran back up to the second floor, her heart in her throat.

She reached the upstairs hallway just to see black cloth disappear through the bathroom doorway, a small corner of cloth lodging in the door as it was hastily thrown shut.

Hermione heard a string of curses erupt from the other side of the door, and the sound of cloth hitting the linoleum floor with a heavy muted thump. She made a mental note to remember the colorful words she didn't recognize- after all, one could never know too many swears.

She knew what was to come next and decided it would be best to stand away from the door, which was thin enough as it was. As the toilet flushed loudly, Hermione had less than a few seconds to compose herself before the door flew open and he was practically upon her, looming over her and looking down at her, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

He looked like hell. His hair was lank and limp against his head, and his face was strained and pinched as though someone had sucked the moisture out of it. The only thing that held any intensity was his gaze, and even then, she could see that his eyes were glazed over slightly, and more than a little blood shot.

She caressed him softly on his chest and he quivered, practically whimpering at the gentleness of her touch. She reached up with her other hand, cupping his chin, and he closed his eyes, putting his weight on it.

"What...what did _he _do to you?" she asked softly, feeling tears edging their way behind her eyes and cursing her stupid pregnancy hormones for making her cry so easily.

He obviously needed someone to be strong for him right now, not a hysterical blubbering puddle. She bit her lip and with some difficulty, she willed the tears back.

"Not….Dark Lord..." his voice came out in a gravelly growl that matched his haggard appearance.

Her eyes narrowed and she was about to reply when she heard her parents shuffling around downstairs. It would be no good to get caught in the middle of a conversation and Severus looked to be in no state to actually make logical decisions at the moment- she could tell as much by his decision to Apparate directly into her room instead of knocking at the front door as they had discussed before. She grabbed his wrist and he offered no resistance as she pulled him into the bathroom, closed, locked and warded the door with her wand.

She seated him down on the plush fabric of the closed toilet seat and then turned and looked down at him with a stern expression.

"Explain. Now," she said, and she almost smiled at how ironic it was that she was using the same authoritative tone of voice that he used in class. This did not go unnoticed by the man before her, and he arched an eyebrow in lieu of words. He met the unamused glare he received in response with a theatrical eye roll of his own, and she couldn't help but snicker slightly at the exaggerated expression.

He cleared his throat.

"If there was any other way for me to avoid doing what I had to do last night, believe me, I would have tried it," he croaked, his voice still a far cry from its usual timbre.

Hermione grabbed the cup she used for brushing her teeth and filled it with water from the tap. He looked dubiously at the small, shell-pink cup, but drank several cups worth of water. The color seemed to return slightly to his face, and that horrible pinched look to his face began to relax.

"Start from the beginning," she said, her voice softening as she saw him rub his arm and wince with pain, then adding, "Please."

"You know that I carry the Mark," he began, then hesitated, looking at his arm as though he were debating whether or not to show her.

"If you want to show it to me, I promise that I won't freak out," Hermione said encouragingly.

He looked back at her intensely with pain in his eyes.

"Taking this Mark is my biggest shame," he said quietly, looking away from her as though he were ashamed to even admit this fact, "It is the reason I poured myself into the Dark Arts. It is the reason I enacted cruelties upon others and was complacent or supportive in other instances to prove myself to the Dark Lord and to increase my power. It is proof that I chose the side of unimaginable evil, one that I will never fully live down in my remaining days on this planet."

"I know," Hermione said, matching the softness in his voice, "But even so, I want to see it."

He pulled back the layers of his sleeve gingerly and she could immediately see why. The Mark looked like it had been freshly applied to his skin and there was an angry redness to the skin around it. The snake and skull curled and twisted in what appeared to be a very painful manner, and Hermione could tell that he was expending a lot of energy to appear unaffected by the obvious pain he was experiencing. Small, orange sparks seemed to arc from the evil image from time to time, and the overall effect was quite horrible indeed.

Hermione's eyes widened in understanding.

"You put...her.._.it_...back," she said softly.

"You must understand that I did not want to. I _had_ to. The Dark Lord was becoming suspicious. The Schadenspiritus is the gatekeeper between the Mark and _him_, and _he_ draws power from me by using it as a gatekeeper," he said, and his eyes were pleading with her, "Please forgive me, Hermione. I did not mean for things to turn out this way."

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione said, her voice breaking slightly as he shook his head, "There has to be something I can do to ease the pain you're in!"

"This is my punishment," he replied simply, swallowing a groan as another orange spark rose from the Mark, "I must give some of my suffering to the Schadenspiritus to sate it and to quell the Dark Lord's suspicions. It is nothing that I have not already experienced."

"And Lily?" Hermione asked, though a part of her did not want to know.

"I cannot hear or speak to her the way you did. The shard of her soul is too small and fragmented to create a true persona," Severus replied, "But I can cast her Patronus again, and I know that the majority of that personality was being filled in by the Schadenspiritus, who no longer has to pretend to be Lily. In a way, it is much less painful. I am not haunted by an imposter wearing the face of my past. This is _my_ responsibility. It would be cruel and unseemly to force you to take on any part of that burden."

Hermione could see that he was absolutely miserable. Not only was he in pain, but he had obviously exhausted much of his magic doing whatever he had done to reconnect the Schadenspiritus to his Mark. Hermione had never heard of such magic before, and part of her wondered if he had been dabbling in experimental magic, a very dangerous thing to be doing, especially considering how even the most experienced spellmakers were known to lose at least a couple of fingers in spells gone wrong. The more complex the spell, the more likely there would be fatal consequences. Hermione knew that Luna's mother had died from an accident tied to spellmaking, and she had heard quite a number of stories from Fred and George about their various disasters in creating simple joke items. Fred had lost his eyebrows for over a month after one such attempt, and George still had a toe that had a strange, permanent greenish color to it.

She clapped her hands together suddenly, making him jump.

"Ok, then!" she said briskly, "There's only one thing to do!"

She began to remove her shirt.

"Well?" she said after a moment, as he sat there and stared bug-eyed at her.

She smiled mischievously, turning around and slowly let her jeans slide down from her hips, giving him an eyeful of her undergarments.

"Oh...my…." he said slowly, and she could tell that even though his Mark was still hurting him, he liked what he saw.

"You're going to need to get cleaned up if you want to help me out," she said, her voice lowering dangerously, and he shivered as though caught in an invisible draft, "And I plan on helping _you_ out as well."

Hermione made quick work of her own outfit and then turned around and set to work unbuttoning his coat, her body completely bare.

"Hermione," he said faintly, and she could feel his chest rise and fall more quickly under her wrists as she worked.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and felt her heart surge with a protective rage.

"I'll not take no for an answer," she said finally, noticing that the pain in his arm was not interfering with the effect of her naked body on...his lower extremities.

He stood slightly, allowing her to slide off his trousers and undergarments, and he cried out in surprise when she couldn't help herself and kissed his inner thigh. She stroked her hand along his cock as it sprang free from his clothing, and she stood up, taking his hand.

"Come along, you," she said playfully, turning away from him and pulling him towards the shower.

Suddenly, she felt him move, his arms wrapping around her from the back of her, holding her tightly, skin against skin. His lips were on her ear then, and she could feel the heat of his breath coming in labored exhalations as he found the words he wished to tell her.

"Please…." he hissed, and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest as she felt the blush on his face against her neck, "Please...kiss it better…I...I _need_ it...I need..._you_..."

Hermione went scarlet. She was very glad that she had the forethought to place a silencing spell and wards on the door.

"Shower," she managed weakly, feeling him pressing his erection gently into the small of her back.

A small voice in the back of her head wondered if she was just trying to put off her plans for her parents.

But she found, as she felt her own arousal growing within her belly, spreading lower and lower still with an increasingly intense ache that begged to be fulfilled, that an increasingly large part of her did not care at all.


	82. Chapter 82

_;) Things are going to get a bit...steamy...I think….ehehehehe…_

**Chapter 82: Wet**

The water came out of the spigot freezing cold and Hermione felt Severus jerk backwards in surprise as she twisted the shower head out to the side where it began to warm up slowly. She realized with a small chuckle that he probably hadn't had a shower where the water hadn't been magically kept at the perfect temperature for quite some time.

He was giving the shower a distrustful look as she turned her head to look back at him, but being as she was bent over with her bottom sticking out towards him, she could see that he was torn between saying something scathing to her and ogling her arse.

Smiling, she backed up slowly until she felt her skin press against his thighs. Their height distance and his rigid member made it so that she made a convenient shelf for him with the soft skin of her bum.

She could feel him shaking a little, as though her touch was electric.

The water was warm now, and she moved the stream of spray to cover them both. The water made a pleasant slickness develop between their bodies. She allowed him to rub against her arse cheeks a little, savoring the sound of his breath coming out raggedly, but then she changed her mind, standing up and turning around to face him.

His eyes traveled from her face, down to her breasts which had gotten larger, her nipples darker than before due to the hormonal changes of pregnancy. He reached out a hand, massaging one of her breasts and she bit her lip at the pleasure of his touch, her nipples hardening in pleasure and the slight cold that filled the shower stall. His eyes widened when he noticed that tiny droplets of breast milk were welling up on her nipple, not enough to actually pour out, but just enough to bring her pregnancy into the forefront of his mind, and his eyes traveled lower, staring openly at the small rounded belly that betrayed her condition.

Truth be told, the thought of becoming a parent scared the everloving shit out of Severus Snape. He was somewhat more comfortable with the thought of being tortured by the Dark Lord, because at least he had some experience with enduring _that_. The only information he really had to go on about parenting was his own childhood and from what little he'd seen when he visited Lily's house. It didn't help that he had years of terrorizing other students under his belt. Still, the thought of Hermione carrying his baby made him feel _extremely _turned on in a strange, primal sort of way.

He touched her breasts again, running them lower over her belly, bending to kiss her as he rubbed against her pubic mound with one hand, pleased by the small noises of pleasure she made in response.

She wanted him. She wanted _this_. And so did he.

Shit, he was so aroused.

His body still hurt terribly and he felt small tremors in his Marked arm, but part of him didn't care anymore. His arousal was a wall of heat and pleasure that could not be penetrated. He was with the one person who had shown him desire and concern without demanding anything in return or trying to use his affection to hurt him. It sounded stupid and mushy in his mind, basically anything involving love or affection was inherently stupid or mushy after all, but he knew that he was entirely hers, down to the lowest depths of darkness in his soul. It was mushy, certainly, but it felt _right_, and that both scared and excited him.

"_Hermione_," he moaned as she drew close to him, turning around in his arms until he was spooning her in a standing position, his chin resting on her head, and before he knew what she was doing she was holding his Marked arm, pulling it out in front of her so she could inspect it.

"If I touch it, will it call...well..You Know Who?" she asked softly.

"No. I would have to touch it in a specific way in order to summon…._him_," he responded bitterly, "Otherwise, every time one of his Death Eaters accidentally itched their arms or brushed against it in the bath he'd get summoned. Do believe me when I tell you that he has no interest in voyeurism, especially if you imagine what many of his Death Eaters would look like without their robes on."

"I quite like _you_ without your robes on," Hermione said matter-of-factly, blushing at her forthright words.

"I am not sure if the Dark Lord likes to see anyone without clothing other than perhaps himself," Severus replied, smirking.

He was about to say something further, but Hermione raised the Mark to her lips and kissed a spot right on the perimeter of his Mark. Something like a shock of cool electricity passed through his skin and his arm flexed involuntarily. He watched with amazement as the movement of his Mark began to slow, imperceptibly at first, but growing more and more still as Hermione kissed him along the redness that surrounded the perimeter of his Mark. The orange sparks were less and less noticeable until they disappeared altogether, replaced by a cool blue light that seemed to cover the affected Mark. The redness began to fade as Hermione kissed him, sending shuddering waves of pleasure down his arm and into his spine. It didn't help him become any less erect. If anything, he became more aroused than ever, and he could not stop himself from slightly moving his hips against her, rubbing the length of his cock against her slick body. She murmured pleasurably, arching her back against the movement and he realized that she found his behavior arousing as well. When she began licking the sensitive flesh around his Mark, he buckled and thrusted involuntarily.

It felt _amazing_. He couldn't help himself, and he found himself reaching his other arm around to stroke the curve of her belly, whispering in her ear as he did so.

"I wish to be inside of you _right now_, Hermione," he growled low into her ear, and she shivered against him, bending forward as much as she could while still holding onto his arm with one hand, and arching her hips upward as she pressed a hand against the wall of the shower.

His free hand ran down and he rubbed his fingers across her sex. She was soaking wet between her legs, and he knew it had nothing to do with the water. He slid one of his fingers inside of her and grinned at the sound of her sharp sighed exhalation. Rubbing her inside until he could feel her thick juices practically dripping around him, he pulled out his finger and licked it, savoring her taste.

"Delicious," he purred and he could feel her quivering more and more, pushing up against his cock almost insistantly.

"Fuck me, oh my god, I need you so badly," she said, surprising him with the expletive.

"As you wish," he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he said it, and she shivered at the sound of his voice.

Slipping inside of her was so easy and so deliciously pleasurable that they both cried out at the sensation. It was as though they had been made for one another, each curve and ridge rubbing pleasurably until they both felt that thrumming heat of orgasm building within their cores and spreading outward.

Hermione was still nibbling and sucking on his arm, the Mark now looking almost normal and static like a muggle tattoo, and she began sliding her mouth down to suck on his fingers in a delightfully sensual sort of way. He noticed that where her mouth touched his skin, he could still feel that pleasant electric sensation and when he drove his cock into her body, it was almost as though he was pouring an electric pulse of his own deep against her, one that caused her to moan deliciously as he moved, and he found himself angling and thrusting in ways to maximize her vocalization- it really did drive him wild to hear her make such noises with that mouth of hers.

A sudden wicked thought came to mind and he found himself bringing his free arm down to the swell of her belly again and moving his lips into position next to her ear.

"Oh god, Hermione," he breathed raggedly, "If you were not already knocked up, it would be very, very difficult for me to hold back from doing so right now."

He could feel her breathing becoming more ragged as well, and she squeezed his cock, becoming wetter and grinding against him almost instinctively as he spoke to her.

"You like carrying my child, don't you?" he purred, feeling slightly embarrassed but almost not caring as he spoke from a place of primal desire for the one he loved, "You like being filled with my seed, knowing that we made a baby together with our passion...and our...lo….love…"

He faltered on that last word- it felt so weird in his mouth, but he could not deny how he felt.

"S...Severus," Hermione moaned quietly.

"Louder," he replied, grinning. He loved hearing her saying his name while he was inside of her.

"Severus...Severus!" she said, more loudly, "Fuck me, just like that, nghhhh, I want you...ghhhhhh...fill me up...oh god please…"

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he said, grinning wickedly as he slowed down his pace and she bucked against him, begging him to fill her up with his come, entreating him to make her pregnant again and again. It was almost too much for him to stand, hearing her say such dirty things.

"I will not last much longer with you begging me to come inside of you like this," he said, his voice wavering with the effort he was putting into staving off his orgasm.

"Neither...neither will I! You're making me feel...feel….auhhhhhh….so fucking good..." Hermione rasped breathlessly, and he could indeed feel her clenching around him. He ran his hand over her belly one more time and gently stroked the front of her against her clit and ran his fingers down and around her labia, grinning when she moaned sharply and ground against his touch and bucked against his cock.

"If...if you want me to fill you up…." he said, his breathing becoming erratic as he neared completion, "I shall grant your wish...oh yesssss, I will…"

"Fill me up! Please! Severus! PLEASE!" Hermione practically yowled, arching her back against him as she felt herself go over the edge into orgasm, and as though in response, he drove his cock into her harder and harder, almost mindless in his movement as he rode her orgasm into one of his own, filling her to the brim with his hot semen.

For many long moments, they held their position, still connected to one another and spent, their breathing normalizing until he slipped out of her, not that he felt almost as weak as a kitten, only knowing that he wanted to hold her close, claim her lips against his own and feel her heart beating against his own.

She turned, her face and chest still flushed from her own climax.

"I love you," she whispered hoarsely into his chest, and before he could respond, she continued, "You might think that I'm being mushy, but I'm talking from my heart. I can't imagine being without you like this. So don't die, ok Severus? I couldn't bear it!"

"I...I love you as well, Hermione," he replied, scowling, "I may be a bastard sometimes...ok, ok, _a lot of the time_, but I would never lie about the depth of my affection for you. And I assure you that 'not dying' is right at the top of my list of things that I am willing to do to be with you...and our child…"

Hermione drew back from him, looking into his eyes as he smiled gently back at her, and her heart leapt at how different he looked when he was well and truly happy.

_Like a different man altogether. Hiding in plain sight._

She did not give voice to her thoughts, though, simply contenting herself with a smile of her own to mirror his.

"Now, I seem to recall that we were supposed to be showering, correct?" he said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, well if that's what you call it, I'd like another 'shower,' please," Hermione responded with a similar level of snark and her own raised eyebrow.

"I would not mind indulging this request once our...other matters...are attended to," he replied, kissing her forehead and feeling decidedly silly. Oh, _to hell _with changing his behavior just because he felt silly.

Hermione's face fell as she remembered the original reason why he was here in the first place and he touched her cheek, drawing her gaze up to him.

"Remember, Hermione," he said seriously, his voice holding that same authoritative quality that he used in his classes, "It is only temporary. It is only so that they will be safe until it is safe for them to return home."

"I keep telling myself….but it's just so hard! It shouldn't be, but it is!" Hermione said, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to stop herself from bursting into tears.

"I know," he said quietly, "Nothing worth doing is ever easy. But I will do my best to be here for you every step of the way and every step after that."

"Always?" she asked him, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, pulling her close under the heat of the water, "Always."


	83. Chapter 83

_Author's Note: Sorry about not posting yesterday, but that means that you get an extra long chapter today! Are you all curious about the details of Hermione's spell? Or do you not want to know? Let me know what you think!_

**Chapter 83: Gryffindor Courage**

Hermione walked down the stairs alone.

Her hair was still a bit damp from the shower, but it was already starting to frizz and curl as though it had a mind of its own.

As though on cue, the bell rang and she heard her father's footsteps tromping down the hall to answer the door. Her heart leapt.

It was now or never.

"Late night studying again, luv?" Hermione's mother asked her as she entered the kitchen.

Hermione saw the plate with eggs and toast that her mother had thoughtfully prepared on the table and almost burst into tears.

Her mother looked at her daughter's anguished expression and gave her a puzzled look.

"Don't tell me that my breakfasts are that bad!" Her mother joked, but her expression became serious when her daughter looked up blinking away tears.

She embraced her only child warmly. Something felt off...strange. But she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" She whispered gently in her daughter's ear, hearing quiet sobs burrow into her shoulder, "You can tell me. I love you."

This just made Hermione cry harder.

"Guess who was at the door?" Hermione's father said excitedly, blundering into the kitchen and freezing when he saw his wife holding his daughter, who was obviously upset.

"Wait a moment, _dear_," Hermione's mother said, the usage of the endearment as icy as the air outside.

"It's ok, Mum and Dad," Hermione sniffed loudly as she composed herself, "I...I'm...we need to talk."

"Shall I tell Professor-?" Her father started.

"No. He's a part of it. I thought it best to tell you together," Hermione said, a single tear escaping from her left eye.

"Is it...your grades?" Her father looked confused. Her mother looked horrified. It was obvious which parent had passed down Hermione's perfectionist streak.

Hermione snorted loudly before she could stop herself. Somehow, she had forgotten about her grades altogether. If Harry and Ron only knew, they'd never let her hear the end of it.

"No, that's not it," she croaked, horrified at how awful her voice sounded.

Her mother gave her father a Look and he seemed to catch her meaning.

"I'll put the tea on," he said uncomfortably, and once he had set up the electric kettle, he poured a glass of cold tap water and handed it over to Hermione, who gulped it down gratefully.

"Ahem," she said, clearing her throat, "Is S-is _he_ in the front room?"

Her mother's expression darkened. She could tell that something was wrong, something very important, but she still didn't know what it is, and this aggravated her greatly.

"Can't you tell me directly?" She asked, using her best mothering voice, but Hermione's expression set in that stubborn way that she always did when she was unwilling to budge even an inch on a subject.

"I'm sorry. I can't," Hermione looked like she was about to start crying again, and her father beat a swift retreat to the front room, afraid of his wife's wrath and his daughter's unexplained tears.

"Go sit with your father," Hermione's mother said evenly, gesturing to the kitchen, "I will handle all of this."

Hermione's stomach flip-flopped. She felt strange, tickly butterflies rising in her belly as she recognized the tone of her mother's voice. She _knew_...or at least suspected. And then...a small twinge tapped somewhere deep inside her and she froze. She didn't think that she would be able to feel the baby move inside of her yet, and she waited to feel the strange sensation again, but none came as the minutes passed.

After what seemed like ages, she entered the front room. It was a bit large to be considered a parlor and too small to be a proper living room, so they simply referred to it as the front room, which was silly to be thinking about, all things considered, but somehow, it made her feel calmer.

Severus sat rigidly in the middle of the red velvet couch next to the fireplace. Hermione's father was seated in his brown, faded recliner, though it was obvious that he was so excited to see the Professor again that he was sitting on the edge of his seat, eagerly asking questions about Quidditch.

Severus looked right at her as she entered, the meaning of his look painfully obvious.

_Save me_.

"_Dad_!" Hermione scolded, grateful to tap into a different emotion.

"I was just asking about how often he has his team practice before a match," her father replied sheepishly.

"You do know that he is the Head of Slytherin House, though, right?" Hermione countered, sitting down on the couch so that she was just barely out of reach of said Head of Slytherin, "Our houses actually have quite the rivalry going on, don't they?"

"Indeed," he said snarkily, folding his arms, but his eyes were relieved. She felt her skin prickle pleasurably as he shifted slightly and she felt him close the distance between them.

Hermione handed one of the white packages to her father.

"Don't open it yet," she said softly, "I want you and Mum to open them together."

As though on cue, Hermione's mother appeared with a tea tray and some snacks. Hermione handed the second box to her mother as she sat down in the matching red velvet chair across from the sofa.

"Please," she said, gesturing towards the packages, "I will explain everything when you open them."

Her mother's eyes hardened and Hermione's eyes went wide when she set down the box on the arm rest.

"Hermione Jean Granger," her mother said softly, but there was authority in her voice, "Exactly _what_ is going on here? And don't you dare give me some cock and bull story about an apprenticeship. I saw the way you were looking at each other."

Hermione shrunk back into the sofa instinctively.

"I don't follow your meaning," Hermione's father looked at everyone in bewilderment.

"Just look," Hermione's mother gestured at them, "They're obviously more than just teacher and student. Look how they are touching each other subtly as though they can't stand not to do so. And I saw that look you gave each other- exchanging silent messages with glances is an art form, one that I can recognize from a mile away."

Hermione looked horrified at how her mother's suppositions were so accurate. She inwardly cursed her acute lack of a poker face, and she knew that the game was up.

Swallowing hard, Hermione steeled herself and prepared to speak.

Only Severus had stood up before she could, moving in front of her protectively. She couldn't see his face now, but she could almost hear the sound of his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, mirroring her own.

"Please," he said quietly, "Do not blame Hermione. I take full responsibility for what happened. I-"

"What do you mean that _you're_ taking full responsibility?" Hermione said, feeling a thick sense of indignation rising in her chest, "I'm just as responsible as you are."

He whirled around and his eyes flashed in time to the flaring of his own temper.

"It is easy to deduce, Hermione. I am older than you are. I am a teacher at your school. I should have stopped what kept happening as soon as I figured it out! Regardless of my feelings! Regardless of how happy you made me feel for the first time in almost two decades! IT. IS. ALL. MY. FAULT!" he shouted miserably, looking all for the world as though he was about to collapse from the weight of the world.

"Oh don't give me that 'it's all my fault and I'm tragic' crap! Aren't _you_ forgetting that I'm considered an adult by the wizarding world?! I checked 'Hogwarts: A History,' by the way, and there are no rules _against_ teachers and legally of-age students having relationships as long as there is no favoritism and knowing _you_, I know that there's no chance of _that_ happening! And how could you have known that it was me? I was under the influence of more than one potion due to my own stupidity and dumb misfortune! You're not allowed to up and decide that my happiness and my feelings for you don't matter, goddamn it!" Hermione matched his volume, and they stood, nose to nose and scowling at one another.

"Hermione! Language!" Her mother roared over both of them and they turned and looked at the woman who stood glowering at both of them as though they had both just remembered that they weren't alone.

"Now," she continued, "I want you both to take a deep breath, sit down and tell me _exactly _what happened. I promise not to yell or scream at you for the duration of your story. Though I can't make promises about afterwards."

"What about me?" Hermione's father raised his hand timidly, and shrank back when three sets of glaring eyes turned on him, and he seemed to think better of saying anything further.

So Hermione began telling the story of finding the strange butterbeer and losing her inhibitions, seeking out the Defense professor in his offices, transforming into someone else and then finding herself trapped in a double life, falling in love with a man who used to terrify her (and sometimes still did, to be honest, though she'd never admit it) and realizing that he felt the same way about her. When she finally got to the whole extraction process (being sure to tactfully skip over all of the crazy, uninhibited sex she'd had because it was incredibly embarrassing just to tell her parents the simple version, much less talk about something that her polite nature and sensibility simply balked at doing), her mother looked a bit faint.

"I see," she said slowly when they were done, "I suppose, all in all, that's not the worst that things could have turned out. After all, it's not like you're pregnant or anything. I remember the tests I made you take. They were obviously negative. So there's that."

Hermione started to quiver and Severus tenderly took her hand, rubbing the back of her wrist with his thumb. He was profoundly out of his element, and a part of him almost felt as though he'd traveled back in time himself and was being lectured by his own parents (though to be sure, there would be more thrown bottles and expletives, which was all the more reason to be eminently grateful that his parents had been dead and in the ground for ages).

"That's...I'm sorry...I charmed them to appear negative," Hermione said shakily, "I didn't think I was- there are wards in place to prevent it on the campus grounds. But...I was wrong. Something happened to interfere with them. I don't know how, I scoured the texts for clue and found nothing to explain it. The truth is, I _am_ pregnant and according to the clinic doctor, I'm probably due sometime in June."

Her parents looked at her with a combination of shock and horror.

"I knew you would react like this," Hermione said miserably, leaning into Severus as he wrapped his arm around her awkwardly, still sitting stiffly as though he were expecting an attack, "That's why I kept putting off telling you. I was going to do this on Christmas but Severus convinced me that we all deserved one more happy holiday memory before it came to this. I know you hate me, but please, hear me out."

"I _don't_ hate you," Hermione's mother said softly, "I could never hate you. You're our only child. We love you, and we want what's best for you. We don't want to see you hurt. _Or_ _taken advantage of_."

Severus winced slightly but said nothing. He knew that barb was for him and it was well-deserved.

"It's just...even though you're technically an adult, you'll always be our baby," Hermione's father said, his eyes hardening when he looked over at the man who had obviously brought such trouble to his daughter.

"You had so many dreams and goals!" Her mother said sadly, "And now...this."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked her mother in the eyes.

"I can still achieve those goals! I'm not dead! It's not like women can only use their brains _or_ their reproductive organs! And to be honest, even if none of this did happen, there is still a fairly good chance that I'll never be able to achieve anything at all- that I might not even be _alive_ if I don't fight against the forces that are currently in play."

She looked at Severus in askance, as though confirming that she should tell her parents the truth about all that had transpired in her previous years at school and he nodded his head ever so slightly, encouraging her to continue.

"I haven't been completely honest with you these past few years. Remember when I told you about how there was an evil wizard who almost plunged our whole world, including the muggle world, into darkness until he was defeated almost two decades ago?" she said, trying to focus on telling them the story and ignore the irregular hammering sensation in her chest, "Well, he's back and he's killing people. He's got these followers and they are helping him torture and kill people they don't like, specifically those without pure wizarding blood/family lines."

She'd thought that they had looked horrified before, but this fresh admission intensified their expressions even further.

"When were you planning on telling us all this, Hermione?" Hermione's father said softly, though his face seemed frozen in horror.

It was obvious that Hermione had been incredibly skilled at keeping her parents in the dark. Severus was impressed, though he kept his expression as neutral as possible out of sheer habit. There was no reason to pretend anymore, he reminded himself, and he placed his hand over Hermione's, rubbing his thumb across her skin in a familiar, soothing manner. Hermione blushed a little and the tightness in her body seemed to drain out of her slightly, leaving her looking tired and deflated.

"Well...I guess that would be now?" Hermione said sheepishly.

"You have kept this from us for a long time," her mother said suspiciously, spacing out each word as though she were weighing their meaning, "So why are you telling us this now, especially since you know that we cannot, in good conscience, let you go back there?"

"Honestly? I'm so tired of lying, of holding all of this inside of me. I was brought into this amazing, terrifying and dangerous world and I didn't want anyone taking it away from me because even with the possibility of terrible consequences, I was also given license to do what most people consider impossible things! I traveled through time like you'd take the Tube! I flew on invisible creatures and helped foil a group of murderous bigots! It's a part of me, and I can't give that up. I must fight to protect my friends, those that I love, my family and do my part to save them from this madman!"

Hermione's eyes were flashing dangerously as she spoke with a clear, tremorless conviction. There was no doubt how much she believed in her cause, and her parents seemed almost startled by the ferocity of her words.

"_Hermione Jean Granger_!" her mother exclaimed, "You are not a heroic character in a fantasy novel! You're a barely grown young woman! It is simply _insane_ for anyone to expect you and your friends to go about on a crusade and saving the world from crazy genocidal mad men!"

"To be fair, dear," her husband said very quietly, and everyone turned to stare at him as though they were just realizing that he was there, "That's what they expected of our barely grown young men back during the second World War. If what Hermione is saying is true, mind you, I don't know the details, then they are going to need everyone they can get to help bring this bastard down."

Hermione looked at her father with a shocked expression. She couldn't believe that she was hearing this from someone who she'd heard referred to as Mr. "I'm-A-Boring-Dentist-Who-Feels-Sick-When-Fight-Scenes-Involving-Pretend-Blood-Come-On-the-Telly" by her mum.

Hermione's mother was flabbergasted. First her daughter, and now her husband? Couldn't they see that this was madness?

"Then we'll move away!" she exclaimed, waving her arms hysterically, "I don't care where to! We just can't let our daughter go back to those...those monsters! If I had known that their school was a training ground for child soldiers, then magic or no magic, I would never have allowed her to go there!"

"Magic is an inherent part of me, mum," Hermione said emphatically, "I can no more turn off my magical ability than I can stop breathing. Exactly what do you think would happen to me if I accidentally cast magic in muggle school under duress? Do you think that it would go unnoticed? What exactly do you think the authorities would do if they knew about my abilities? Drag me off somewhere and experiment on me? Is that what you want? A human guinea pig for a daughter?"

Hermione's mother bit her lip but said nothing in return.

"The point is, mum, dad, I have to protect you both. You're my parents and I love you beyond reason. You've been the best parents I could have ever asked for. You guided and protected me when I needed it. But it's my turn now. If the Dark Lord finds out that you're my parents, then he's going to use you to get to me. He could torture you. Murder you. You would not be able to fight back because neither of you have magical abilities. And I would never be able to live with myself if that happened."

Hermione paused, tears welling in her eyes as she spoke.

"I don't know why I'm crying," she said brokenly, "It's not like you're going to remember any of this anyway. I'm going to d-do a spell that will modify your m-memory. You won't even kn-know I'm gone. You...you'll be s-safe in...Australia."

She raised her wand.

"Wait!" Hermione's mother shouted brokenly as Hermione's father grabbed her hand, "You can't do this to us! _We _have a life here! _I_ still need to finish my degree. We can't lose you, and...you can't just go off and _leave _us."

"I've made up my mind," Hermione tried to steel herself, setting her lips in a hard line even as she blinked rapidly to stop the tears.

"What about your child, huh?" Hermione's mother retorted, "Are you planning on riding into battle with a newborn strapped to your teat?"

"Wh-_teat_? Where did you even get that word?" Hermione could feel her resolve slackening, "And no, that's what I was going to mention earlier before you interrupted me. I-when the time comes, Severus and I have decided that the best place for the baby...is with you."

Hermione's mother's fingers flew to her mouth and she made a surprised choking noise.

"That's...I just...I don't..._yes_. _Of course_," she finally managed, looking at her daughter and the man with black eyes who looked at her as though he were a child who had been caught stealing from a cookie jar.

She seemed to deflate then. There was really nothing to be done. Her daughter was intelligent and determined- she'd obviously thought things through. And she had magic. Magic was _real_. There were so many things that neither she nor her husband knew about what the magical world was capable of bringing into their lives. If her daughter said that a crazy psychopath was on the warpath, this was obviously not mere hyperbole. After a few deep breaths, Hermione's mother opened her eyes and stared placidly at her daughter.

"I suppose you've already set up jobs and transferred my schooling stuff to a university in Melbourne or something, haven't you?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Hermione replied, looking away at the wall as though she were entranced by an invisible object of great importance, "You won't remember any of this, obviously, but I thought that...in some way...at least you should know. And if…_when_ it's all over, I will restore your memories to the way they were before, and you'll remember all of this. So I suppose there's that. The thought of simply catching you unawares was...unbearable to me."

"Hermione, come here, love," her mother opened her arms and she rushed into them, smiling as her father came over and hugged her as well.

"Come over here, now what did she call you? Ah yes, Severus," Hermione's mother said mischievously, "You do know that you're family now, regardless of whether or not you two work out in the long run, right?"

The man stood up, gaunt and tall, and his face appeared to go even more pale than usual as he walked at an exaggeratedly slow pace towards the hugging Grangers.

"I assure you," he said, his voice wavering for just a moment before he regained control of his composure, "Hermione has accepted my proposal of marriage. It will be made official as soon as we can make it happen."

Before he knew what was happening he'd been swept up in a hug that was slightly more firm than was comfortable.

"Oh, you're skin and bones!" Hermione's mother said, "I'm sorry I won't be around to offer you the amount of food you obviously need."

"I hardly think that will be necessary," he practically squeaked as she crushed the air out of him.

"You _will _protect her," Hermione's mother whispered, deadly serious in his ear, "And if you don't, it had better be because you're dead. Because if she doesn't come back to us and you do, I _will_ kill you. I don't give a flying fuck that you have magic and I don't."

"That will not be an issue," he replied quietly, secretly amused that Hermione's mother, like her daughter, obviously had a propensity towards swearing when she was extremely upset, "I would be perfectly able to take such measures on my own if that is the case."

"A secret romantic, huh?" he could feel her smiling next to his ear, "You're good at hiding it."

"What are you two whispering about?" Hermione said, puzzled.

"It appears that we agree on a very important subject matter," Severus said, sharing a confirming look with Hermione's mother.

Hermione's mother clasped her hands together suddenly, and Hermione practically jumped in surprise.

"Hermione, I think you need to do it now. Before I fall apart," she said, touching Hermione's stomach briefly before sitting back down in the velvet chair next to her husband.

Her parents held hands almost as though they were waiting for a death sentence, and suddenly, they looked so much older than they ever had before.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said sadly, "If there was any other way…."

"...You'd have thought of it, right?" her father said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"We trust you," her mother said bravely, "So do your worst."

"Right," Hermione said, trying to steady herself, "I'll need you to open your gifts first. Then we can begin."

She clamped her mouth shut before she could say the words to take it all back.

_No._

_It had to happen tonight._

She wondered if she would hate herself less once it was done.


	84. Chapter 84

**Chapter 84: Paradise, Lost**

Hermione stood outside her parent's house. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were red and swollen. Her nose, too, had taken on an almost angry shade of red from the cold. She was wrapped in a dark brown pea coat that shut out much of the chill air, along with her red-and-gold Gryffindor scarf, along with her bag filled with all of her personal belongings, but she still shivered almost uncontrollably. This made sense, for her discomfort had nothing to do with the cold.

The lights that shone from the windows of the house were no longer cheery to her eyes. Instead, they seemed to burn colder and more alien than any light she had ever seen in her life.

"This is no longer my home," Hermione said sorrowfully, fighting the lump that grew larger as each moment passed.

The man clad all in black who stepped forward silently from behind her had almost been completely cloaked by the early darkness, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his weight lightly into her back.

He knew better than to say anything, and Hermione was grateful for his silence. He made no motion when she nuzzled into one of his arms, inadvertently wiping part of her wet cheek on his sleeve as she did so. He merely placed his chin on the top of her head, resting his slight warmth against her as she composed herself.

Hesitantly, she reached out her hand and placed it near the fingertips that protruded slightly from the long sleeves of his jacket, her mouth twitching upward involuntarily as his thin fingers grasped out suddenly and found hers, entwining them together with an easy grace.

"It's funny. I knew I would feel this way," she whispered huskily, when she finally found her voice, "but it doesn't make it any better, in the end. Tell me, does it get any easier? Being responsible for your misery, even when you know it's the right thing to do?"

"Do you really want me, of all people, to answer that?" he replied wearily. It had been a long day. A long month, in fact. A long, painful lifetime that he most certainly did not want to reminisce about.

"I planned it all out," Hermione said raggedly, "But I guess that in the end, planning is a lot different than actual practice."

"If it makes you feel better, Hermione, I know exactly what you are experiencing," he replied, his lips whispering against her cheek, "I wish to take you somewhere."

Hermione nodded silently and she felt him grasp her more firmly, one arm curling around and resting against her abdomen. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent as a fluttering sensation began to beat in her belly.

_Family_.

Her heart beat faster.

_My very own family. With Severus. If we can just survive this. _

The operative word being "if."

There was a loud crack as they vanished together.

As though waiting for their disappearance, small flecks of snow began to fall into the street where they had been standing, and the only living creature to see them vanish was a particularly confused looking black cat on her way back from her nightly stroll.


	85. Chapter 85

**Chapter 85: Making Home**

Somehow, Side Along Apparation was nowhere nearly as horrible while being held so tightly. Hermione only felt a moment of nausea when the bottom dropped out of the world and they were pressed impossibly tight together before reappearing in an unfamiliar place.

It was still very dark and cold where they were, but after a Heating Charm was applied, it was much easier to stand the chill from the wind. They were up high, looking down on a sea of artificial lights in the distance. Hermione could see the stars high above them, semi-obscured by thick clouds. Long, brittle grasses blew around them both gently, whispering in the night around them.

Hermione shifted, trying to look up at Severus in askance, but before she could say anything, he spoke.

"This is where I came to think after I recovered from receiving my Mark," he said, his voice deliciously clear in the crisp air.

"Does it hurt?" Hermione asked suddenly, hoping she wasn't upsetting him with her need to question everything, "Getting Marked, that is? I've never read about anything like it and I was...well...curious."

She was babbling. God, she felt moronic and childish.

To her surprise, Severus made an amused noise.

"Am I to assume that you are curious about the _exact amount _of agony that I experienced when receiving this cursed thing?" he said sarcastically, though there was no real bite to his words, "It is not a pleasant process, to be honest, in any sense of the word. The Dark Lord savors each of his Markings. The entire process takes an entire weekend, beginning on Friday evening and ending on Sunday afternoon, but he can draw it out if he's feeling particularly sadistic. Apparently, he took a week to finish with Dolohov. He used to have a special room back before he lost everything. It was filled with both muggle and magical torture devices. Of course, the process may be different now that they have moved their headquarters, but I do not know for certain, the only thing I do know is that it is probably just as horrifying. The Dark Lord does not like anyone intruding on his...frivolity. He finds out what humiliates you and uses that to undo you. I did not know that Draco had been Marked until the Dark Lord called him into a meeting and presented him. It was stupid, but unavoidable. Had Draco not accepted the Dark Lord's offer, his mother would likely have been tortured or murdered in front of him, and he would have still been expected to join afterwards or die himself. He did not have a _real_ choice. And if anyone were to _expose him_, his entire family would face certain death."

His eyes took on a pained, faraway expression as he remembered, and Hermione agreed that even though Draco was a right bastard, he still didn't deserve to be tortured and watch his family be murdered in front of him. She made a mental note to push Harry away from his obsessive quest to expose Draco as a Death Eater. She knew she was rubbish at lying, but she could stretch the truth and spread doubt. Hermione remembered how broken Harry had been when he felt that he was responsible for the deaths of others, even those who he didn't like all that much. She resolved that if she could prevent him from having to feel responsible for another slew of deaths, she would do it.

She became aware of dark eyes upon her and she saw that Severus was looking at her, waiting for her to be ready for him to continue. She nodded slightly, and he drew his wand, transfiguring a fallen log into a black leather loveseat, and they both sat side by side. Hermione dug in her messenger bag to find the beaded handbag and rummaged some more, pulling out a blanket, wrapping it around the both of them and casting a Heating Charm on the fabric. He looked out over the expanse of lights before them, only turning back to her when she leaned into his arm, signalling that she was ready for him to continue his story.

"When I was Marked…there was a chair- he had it specially made with runes to amplify the pain. The idea is that it makes his followers even more compliant because it etches the memory of that pain into every fiber of their being. To defy him is to suffer echoes of the pain of Marking, and it took me years to hide this fact. The chains are silver, and there are thorns set inside of the manacles. I still have small scars on my wrists from where I bled from spasming uncontrollably," At this, he pulled up the sleeves of his right arm slightly and grabbed one of her hands, running her fingers over the tiny indentations that ran around the otherwise soft skin of his wrist, a permanent reminder of his bondage to his master, "Echoes of the agony lasts for hours, even when he leaves to take his meals or sleep. In my case, he stripped me naked and left me bound and covered in blood and filth in that chair until he released me at the end of my Marking."

Hermione made a horrified noise, nuzzling into his side, only daring to look up when she felt his fingers seek out hers once more, intertwining them gently. It was so dark, but as he looked out at the electric glow below them, she could see small, reflected points of light burning across his black eyes, rendering his pupils a miniature starry expanse.

"I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. I was told that becoming part of the inner fold was a huge honor, a privilege that many would kill for. That I would find myself more powerful than I could have ever imagined, that I would finally be accepted by those around me," he said, so quietly that it was almost swept away by the wind, "But the truth is, there was no possible way for me to have prepared for the reality. When I finally realized what I had done, it was too late. I was trying so hard to survive, all the while knowing that if I did not toe the line, I would be destroyed like a toy the Dark Lord no longer had any use for. I was at the lowest rung of the hierarchy. I was treated lower than dirt by the other Death Eaters, who styled themselves disciples of the Dark Lord and were not above hexing me regularly if they could catch me unawares. It was so awful that I almost started feeling nostalgic about being bullied in school by those fucking Marauders."

He hung his head, closing his eyes, and in the dim light, Hermione couldn't help but bring her free hand up to stroke his cheek, smiling gently when he leaned into it and let out a heavy breath.

"So you see, Hermione, I most certainly understand _exactly _how you feel right now. Maybe more than most. And I doubt that I will ever be able to redeem myself. Too many have died without knowing my remorse or extent of what I am willing to do to cancel out my past mistakes. I am so contrary and ornery most of the time that, were I to die tomorrow, I doubt that anyone would mourn my passing other than you."

"That's...that's not true!" Hermione exclaimed, but she was having trouble thinking of someone who wasn't willing to think anything but the worst of Severus Snape.

"Do not feel that you have to bother searching for people to add to the list. I have made peace with that fact, " he smiled ruefully, but it came out looking far too much like a bitter grimace.

"So, where do we go from here?" Hermione said, after a long pause.

"I meant what I said when I told you that you are welcome to stay with me," he said, his voice betraying a slight hopefulness in his tone.

"That-" Hermione began and he turned, looking her full in the eyes, which startled her into silence.

Even in the dim light, she could clearly see the intense expression on his face, and he took hold of her shoulder with one hand, tipping her chin up with his other.

"I lied," he said finally, biting on the words as he spoke them, "I hate being seen as weak, but I feel that I must be honest. I _need_ you to live with me. I do not think that I could stand waking up without you next to me if it is at all possible for you to be with me. Everything may be up in the air and the future is murky at best, but if you would share my home with me, it would feel, for the first time in perhaps forever, like an actual home, one that I feel comfortable coming home to knowing that you are there. Please, do not refuse out of pride or a sense of stubbornness. You...are my heart. I know that you may prefer the Weasleys and their Burrow because of your..history with them, but...I just..._please_ Hermione, come home with me."

Hermione looked at him as though he were the biggest moron in the universe.

"As though there was any other place I would rather be than with you!" she said so loudly that he jumped in surprise, "So stop feeling sorry for yourself and patting yourself on the back for being so noble and sacrificing. It's not going to work with me. I want you to be selfish about this, about _us_. I want you to fight to be with me if you have to do so. I want to know that you want me to be _yours_, that you want to be _mine_. Is that strange of me to want? I don't know. All I can tell you is that is how I _feel._ So yes, I do want to come live with you. Wherever that may be from now until forever."

Severus looked at her skeptically, the ghost of a sneer rising to his face almost involuntarily.

"You _do_ know how mushy and utterly saccharine you sound, right Hermione?" he asked waspishly, the color rising in his cheeks as she pulled herself up to sit on her knees, drawing closer and closer to him until their noses were almost touching.

"Oh, _I know_, all right! I'm just being mushy and saccharine enough for the both of us, silly!" Hermione replied, her heart skipping when his sour expression morphed almost seamlessly into one of genuine happiness and his mouth twitched upwards in the beginnings of a smile.

It was as though, in the span of moments, he'd become a completely different person, a hidden, secret man whose need for love and acceptance was only second to the ferocity of his devotion, even if he was deeply afraid to let it show because it had led him to ruin so many times before. The smile widened, and she saw the lines around his eyes relax and his expression open into wonder as she slid her hand behind his head and cradled the back of his head, letting her fingers thread through his hair softly. His breaths came out slow, but she could feel his pulse beating swiftly under his skin.

Hermione found him irresistibly kissable, even though it was still cold and dark and they were miles away from anyone and they had both lost so much.

And so she did.


	86. Chapter 86

**Chapter 86: Interruptions**

Their lips were still pressed together when they Apparated into the overgrown, frozen backyard next to the house at Spinner's End.

"It's amazing that neither of us were splinched!" Hermione said crossly, when she opened her eyes and realized where they were.

That sickening scrunching feeling that Hermione had begun to associate with Apparating had been almost minimally noticeable; it was merely the sudden absence of the Heating Charm that immediately alerted them both that something had abruptly changed.

"I didn't try to Apparate," Severus said, his eyebrows scrunching together in concern as he looked suspiciously around at their surroundings, pulling his wand in one deliberate motion, even as he kept one arm protectively around Hermione's waist.

"Neither did I," she replied, pulling her wand as well just in case she needed it, "I haven't passed my Apparation test yet. Besides, now my favorite blanket has been left on some remote hilltop!"

"Wait...What _exactly_ were you thinking about just before it happened?" he said suddenly, still peering warily out into the murky darkness around them both.

"Well, to be honest, I was thinking about coming here," Hermione admitted sheepishly, "We were kissing and you were touching me and it just felt so good and...I just wanted to go-"

"-Somewhere that we could be alone without a remote chance of being interrupted?" Severus finished, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Hermione went red and looked away with embarrassment. Even though they'd both seen one another naked plenty of times and it was no secret how she felt about him, Hermione still found that he could get a rise out of her fairly easily with just a look. She would never let him know, but she secretly enjoyed how quickly he could set her heart racing with indelicate, lusty thoughts.

"What about you?" she blurted, trying to refocus the subject of their conversation on him instead.

"I...I must admit that I was thinking the same thing. There is much to be said about having access to a..._proper bed..._though I very much doubt that we'd need a Heating Charm once we were done," he replied seductively, smiling that dark, secret smile that made something very tender flutter and pulse deep inside of Hermione's core.

He smiled even wider when he realized that Hermione was almost panting. God, that was hot- how his words affected her so tangibly. He licked his lips unconsciously and felt himself growing more aroused as her teeth worked gently over her bottom lip in response.

The mystery of their sudden appearance seemed to move from the forefront of their respective minds as they found themselves drawn to one another, their hands unable to stray from touching one another, and they were both very obviously wanted to do much, much more. They made their way together to the back door and Severus dropped the wards so that they could enter, raising them quickly afterwards so that they would not be disturbed.

It seemed almost cliche to stumble through the kitchen and down the hall to the stairs kissing one another; Hermione stifling a giggle when Severus bumped his elbow painfully on the corner of the wall and suddenly muttered "fuck" into her mouth, but it felt so damn good, sending waves of heat down to her toes. Silently, he flicked his wand, turning on the downstairs lights in one swift movement. He did not want to trip over something and fall undignified to the floor, ardor be dammed.

They almost didn't notice the knock at the door at first. A second, firmer knock, however, was enough to rouse their attention from the bubble of desire that had built around their bodies.

Severus snapped his head towards the front entrance of the house with wide, suspicious eyes, cursing himself for turning on the lights and alerting whoever stood outside that he was inside. But the damage was done and he quickly began to think of his next move.

"Go," he said quietly but insistently, pointing up the stairs with a long finger, as he readied his wand in his left hand.

Hermione nodded and lightly made her way up the stairs, knowing that it was imperative that she make the least amount of noise possible. It was obvious that, regardless of who was at the door, it was not anyone who needed to know about their current situation. Hermione was still debating whether or not to tell her closest friends, though she knew that with Ron the way he was, and Harry with his obsession with Draco and Ginny (though for totally opposite reasons), chances were that no one would care or simply treat her terribly and blame her if things went wrong.

Reaching the second floor, she turned and entered his room. She shivered as she passed the threshold. There was some sort of invisible barrier on the doorway, though it did not seem to have harmed or affected her in any way. She hoped that if the worst were to happen that it would stop an unwanted intruder from entering or at least not allow entry without causing some pain.

Hermione looked around the gloom of the bedroom. What seemed to be a long bed was pressed against the far wall, and the dark shape of an unlit fireplace was located on the inner wall close to the door. A dark wood end table was against one side of the bed, a small unlit lamp placed upon it. Hermione moved closer to the bed, as the windows were covered with thick, velvet curtains that would have blocked out all light even if it were daytime. As it was, the only light that shone in the room was from the upper hallway, so Hermione lit the tip of her wand and moved further in, afraid to turn on the lamp in the room in case someone other than Severus were to come up the stairs and get curious.

She gasped with envy when she realized that a huge stack of books lay next to the bed in a pile. More books were stacked up on the end table, and still more were organized neatly in a bookshelf on the furthest wall. Hermione was innately curious about what sorts of books Severus read before bed, but she reminded herself that she needed to make herself as quiet and inconspicuous as possible. There would be time enough to look at books later.

Next to the bookshelf was a small door with a faceted green glass doorknob. Hermione opened it hesitantly, and realized with a stab of relief that it was actually a small walk-in closet. It wasn't very full, but it did have a couple changes of clothing inside, including a pair of dress robes that she had never seen him wear and a pair of much nicer boots. By the looks of the nearly identical clothing items, it made sense in a practical sort of way. Why change something that worked for him? The idea of him striding down the halls of Hogwarts wearing any other color besides black seemed ludicrous.

She decided that it was a good enough hiding spot, and closed the door behind her. There was a small pull light on the ceiling of the closet. It smelled good in the enclosed space, like leather, linen, parchment and a hint of his innate scent, the intimately delicious one that lay upon his skin when she lay naked in his arms. There was also a small pile of books that looked as though they had been haphazardly stacked in the closet along with a pile of old muggle newspapers.

She sat down, leaning her back against the wall of the closet, making herself as comfortable as possible in the small space picked up the newspaper closest to her foot. It was from the mid to late 70's. A number of articles were circled with pen, and she saw notes written in the margins. At first she didn't understand what they were, but then she realized that Severus had written the names of the Death Eaters involved in various murders or destruction of muggle properties.

_He had been keeping records. Even before he changed sides._

Next to an article about a heritage ball where everyone came down with food poisoning, he had written "Swapped zuba paste for roc ashes to render poison non-lethal, but still upsetting to the stomach enough to cause a problem."

Hermione continued reading through the stack of papers, her eyes widening as she read the circled articles and the small notes. She didn't realize that she was grinning like an idiot until she noticed that her mouth was aching.

Everything that Severus had told her had never made him sound like a truly evil person, more like someone who had made a number of truly bad decisions, but this confirmed that, more than anything, whatever pride or ambition had led him to become a Death Eater had not destroyed his heart. Even at great risk to himself, long before Lily died at Voldemort's hand, he had been making small movements to reduce suffering and document the perpetrators of the majority of the violence of the First Wizarding War.

Hermione only hoped that whoever had come to call would leave quickly. She wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and let him know that no matter what, no matter how much he hated himself, that she would know who he truly was, and that she would never, _ever_ let him forget it.

* * *

_Author's Note: Hello lovely readers! We're ending on quite the little dramatic note, now aren't we? _

_Well, to get your mind off of the questions about what exactly you think is going to happen next, I've decided to make a poll about your favorite thing in this story thus far. Please be sure to comment with your option! I love hearing from you! :D_

* * *

_**Poll: Favorite part of Hermione Granger & The Half-Blood Prince so far:**_

_**A...Hermione and Severus (OF COURSE)**_

_**B...Evil Lily (bad girls are the best and the most enjoyable to hate)**_

_**C...Draco getting tortured/comeuppance (because come on, he can be a little shit)**_

_**D...Luna! (Nargles will eat your toes if you don't choose this one).**_

_**E...Dumbledore (he always gives out free sweets when you choose him)**_

_**F...Lavender and Parvati (who are girls that like girly things and that is ok)**_

_**G...SOMETHING ELSE THAT YOU WILL COMMENT ON BECAUSE YOU ARE AWESOME**_


	87. Chapter 87

**Chapter 87: An Infuriating Visitor**

Severus looked through the small peep-hole on the front door to the house and cursed. Standing on the top step was an infuriatingly familiar shape.

"Dumbledore," he rumbled menacingly, utterly flummoxed at the elderly wizard's seemingly uncanny ability to foil and destroy his every chance at happiness.

Severus had not forgotten all of the times that his bullies and tormentors were given house points and hero's receptions while he was told that he was lucky for not having been murdered or mauled by Lupin-turned-werewolf that fateful night at the Shrieking Shack. Part of him wondered what would be different if he'd had the good sense to die there.

Another part of his mind hissed back in a darkly rational voice that Mr. Potter would still have his parents and that quite a number of people would still be alive and well. That the world would be better off without him and his acidic manner.

In the span of mere minutes, Severus was filled with self-loathing, and he hated himself for even breathing when those who surely deserved it more were no longer able to do so.

"Come now, Severus," came the muffled voice on the other side of the door, "Don't you know that leaving a guest out in the cold is very rude?"

"It is the least that I can do," Severus muttered darkly under his breath, before he dropped the wards around the house and pulled the door open violently, motioning for the Headmaster to enter with his wand.

Dumbledore was smacking his lips ever so slightly as he rolled a hard candy around his mouth, and Severus gritted his teeth when he heard the small sugary ball clacking against the Headmaster's teeth. From the floor-cleaner smell emanating from the man, Severus deduced that it was probably one of those horrid lemon drops that the man loved so dearly.

As though in a gesture to be as different as possible from the surly man clad in severe black robes, Dumbledore was wearing an almost fantastical outfit, all in multicolored silk, with a number of intricate designs woven into his robes with golden thread.

But to Severus, to call the outfit gauche would have been an understatement. It was as though a rainbow had vomited on the bearded man before him. Twice.

Dumbledore stared mildly at the brooding, sneering man whose scathing expression did not go unnoticed. The elderly wizard cleared his throat, and for a moment, an uncertain expression broke through the sneering irritation in the black eyes that glared down upon him.

_What in Merlin's name is Albus doing at my door in the dead of night?_

But just as quickly as the thought had come to him, Severus pushed it back down deep inside of him, resuming his impassive, contemptuous demeanor.

"I must say, Severus, I had expected better of you," Dumbledore said, as though he were scolding the man for eating the last cookie at a tea party, though his blue eyes were cold and menacing, "When Horace informed me that he had agreed to take over your Head of House duties during the break, I assumed that it was because you would be spending time gathering information to prevent the situation that came to pass mere hours ago."

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?!" Severus snapped angrily, his voice dripping with sarcastic respectfulness, "Did I forget to ask the Dark Lord if he prefers boxers or briefs and spoil your Christmas gift exchange plot to kill the bastard with poisoned undergarments?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled for a fraction of an instant and a genuinely amused chuckle escaped his lips before he caught himself and regained his stern demeanor.

"The Burrow was attacked in the dead of night by Death Eaters. Luckily, Harry was sleeping and we decided that he should not be told about it. Arthur said that there were at least two of them," Dumbledore said quietly, twisting the end of his beard gently in a thoughtful motion, watching the scowl slacken slightly on the other man's face replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

Severus began to pace like a tiger at the bars of a tiny cage.

"This is the first I have heard of it," he admitted, "Were they caught? Did they cause damage to the place?"

"No. To both of your answers," Dumbledore said, his voice taking on that frail, addled quality that made Severus immediately slow his pacing and glance at the curse-blackened hand.

"Do you need some more salve?" he asked the headmaster quietly, "I have some in my personal stores."

Dumbledore stumbled with a few labored breaths into the sitting room and collapsed ungracefully on one of the black leather chairs.

"Why, is that concern I detect in your voice, Severus?" Dumbledore said after a few deep breaths, grinning like a fool as the color began to come back into his wrinkled face, "I do believe that this qualifies as a Christmas Miracle!"

He could have spit on the floor. The nerve of that man!

"Christmas was last week, you doddering old fool!" Severus huffed, looking down his nose at the damnable man smiling like a loon before him, "If you do not wish to take advantage of my offer of assistance, then you might as well just say as much!"

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling with such mirth that Severus could not stand another moment of it. He had to say something-anything-to get the topic back to something that didn't involve bantering with the headmaster about his weaknesses and failures in his own home.

"So, did anyone die from this supposed 'Death Eater Attack'?" he sneered, making quotation marks with his long, pale fingers, "Or did your favorite Weasley weasles decide that it would be _fun_ to make light of the severity of their situation? I would not put it past those obnoxious twins to engage in yet another prank or Arthur getting too deeply entrenched in his cups. That _is_ a bit of an _unfortunate_ habit that muggle-phile seems to have developed of late."

The shocked expression on Dumbledore's face plainly showed that he had not considered these notions.

_Typical_.

The man had a massive blind spot when it came to members and even former members of his house.

"Leave it to '_Good Old Dumbledore_' to come for the snake with accusations and abuse, even when there are lions' paws all over the scene of the crime!" he remarked scathingly, his sarcastic tone in impressive form.

Dumbledore's expression grew pensive and then to the great surprise of the still glowering professor, the headmaster looked up again with tears in his eyes.

"Oh Severus," he said remorsefully, "I should have more faith in your abilities. I will go and speak with said Weasley twins. I hear that they have opened a very popular business in Diagon Alley."

Severus scoffed. It wasn't an apology, but he knew that it was the best he could expect from the old man.

The headmaster stood and made a gesture as though he wished to pat Severus with his non-cursed hand. Severus merely stepped just out of reach in a single graceful movement, crossing his arms and putting on his most irritated scowl.

Dumbledore let his hand drop to his side with a small upward twist to his lips and he pulled his wand with graceful ease from the folds of his colorful robes as he turned towards the door.

"Thank you for inviting me into your home at this late hour," Dumbledore said as he opened the front door, his back to the still-scowling professor, "Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes, _headmaster_?" Severus rolled his eyes in irritation. He could practically hear the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes coming out in that infuriatingly soft voice and it made him want to drag his nails down a chalkboard.

"Happy New Year," Dumbledore said, raising his dead hand in the air and wiggling his macabre skeletal fingers slightly to signal his imminent departure.

The rainbow robes rustled like grass in a stiff wind as he passed through the front door and with a loud CRACK from the front porch, which was somewhat obscured by someone nearby setting off a bottle rocket to ring in the new year, Albus Dumbledore was gone.


	88. Chapter 88

**Chapter 88: Resolve**

Hermione's ears pricked when she heard footsteps thumping heavily up the stairs. Old houses like this were notorious for having thin walls. She tensed as she heard them coming closer, the distinct sound of rubber soles scraping against the bottom of the door frame at the entrance to the bedroom, putting her nerves on high alert.

Momentarily, she considered casting a Disillusionment spell on herself, but she was worried that whoever it was out in the room would notice a spell being cast and find her immediately.

The footsteps moved closer and there was a clicking noise as the bedside lamp was switched on, followed by a squeaky, soft noise that sounded like someone sitting on the bed. Hermione could now see a line of light from under the closet door. She wanted to get up and switch the lightbulb off in the closet but thought better of it when she remembered exactly how loud it had clicked when she had pulled the chain to turn it on.

Suddenly, the shoes hit the ground and they dashed madly towards her hiding place. Hermione almost screamed, but as the fear filled and overwhelmed her, a calm wave of certainty washed over her as she realized that she would be discovered any second, and all she could do was prepare for it. Grimly, she drew her wand, her hand quivering as she held it.

Was Severus ok? She hadn't heard a struggle. Surely he would call out to her if it was indeed his boots pounding against the floorboards.

But she had no remaining time to ponder on this as the door was ripped open violently and wordlessly she shot off a Total Body Bind, which was swatted away as though it were an annoying fly.

Her panicked mind expected cold steel or a green deathly light to draw her from her body, and instinctively, she grabbed her belly protectively. She didn't want things to end like this, not without seeing the one she loved for the last time. Her eyes went wide with surprise and wonder when instead of an attacker, it was Severus who tackled her in the closet, his robes flying forward over them both from the force of his movement, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her as though he hadn't seen her in years, not minding the pain in his knees as he slid violently into the floor, pulling up splinters into the cloth of his trousers.

"Do _not_ do that again," he hissed in her ear, his breath hot and hard in her ear from his impromptu sprint, "I thought you had disappeared, that somehow _he knew_ and...and sent someone to retrieve you while he distracted me."

Hermione flinched instinctively at his harsh words at first, but then she read his body language and his firm but tender kisses on her head and neck as he held her to him and she relaxed into his embrace. He wasn't truly angry at her, well, maybe a little. He was obviously terrified about someone taking her, and the way he held her was protective and warm. It was heavenly, actually, even though a cramped closet with a wildly swinging ceiling bulb would not have been Hermione's first choice for this particular activity.

After a long moment, she pulled back slightly so that she could see his face. The lines of tension were back and she could see that his eyes shone brighter than usual. It was then that she realized that he was doing his damnedest to hold back unshed tears. Even with his attempt at an angry expression, it was hard for him to control the surge of grief that had struck him when he had momentarily thought her lost, possibly forever.

If Dumbledore knew, he would not permit Hermione to marry his most valuable spy, much less give birth to his child. This he knew with an iron-clad certainly that chilled him to his very core. The thought of Hermione being Obliviated and forced to miscarry this far in her pregnancy was too cruel to think about, yet it was this thought that lodged maliciously in his brain the second he had searched the entire upstairs area without finding the young woman he loved desperately.

"You promised me a family, a _real_ family, and I thought that I had failed you," he explained, his voice gravely and harsh from choking back emotion, "I could not live with that, not after all that we have been through, and all that we have already lost."

Hermione felt a pang of sadness thinking about her parents and held him tightly against her, feeling him go almost limp in the firmness of her embrace.

"Never," she said resolutely, "I will not let that happen. I would sooner die fighting than allow anyone to separate us!"

He chuckled darkly and when she looked askance at him, he smirked and shook his head.

"Oh no you don't!" Hermione said in mock-irritation, "I poured out my heart to you, so don't you dare chuckle at me like you're composing a secret punchline!"

Severus brought his hand to hers, touching palms, their fingers mirroring one another as they intertwined them together.

"I was merely thinking that you certainly live up to your House's namesake. You are like a little lioness who fiercely defends even the smallest, most unworthy members of her pride," he said, twisting a snarl of her hair between the fingers of his free hand, "Even your hair adds to the mental image. It is such a shame for your fellow lions that you prefer snakes."

Hermione's nose wrinkled adorably as she snorted with laughter. The serious look on his face just made her laugh harder.

"I've already been petrified by a basilisk and survived, so I am sure that I can survive whatever venom you have for me," she replied with a wicked grin.

"Oh, I am not so sure about that," he said, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight and sensation of her body against him now that he knew she was safe, "But you might remember that a snake does have quite an accomplished tongue."

He took hold of her chin gently with two fingers, tilting her face up until the length of her neck was exposed. Bringing his face down slowly to the soft flesh, he licked her lightly on the neck and around her throat as she writhed against him, moaning his name as he continued to explore the sensitive expanse of her neck all the way down to her collarbones.

When he drew back to survey his work, he found that Hermione's flushed face was utterly irresistible, and he summoned the strength to gather her up and stood somehow in the narrow space, pushing the door open with his foot as he carried her to the bed, eager to continue where he had left off.

"Kiss me, Severus," Hermione purred as he placed her down gently, holding her hands out to him as he stood above her, removing his outer garments and forcing her to watch with bated breath. It had the desired effect. She watched him hungrily, her expression full of a deep trust and affection, and he basked in it as though it were the sun.

He bent down as he began unbuttoning his coat, kissing her lips softly as his fingers continued their graceful assault on the many buttons.

"Love me?" Hermione was panting softly again, her eyes halfway closed as the ardor took her over more fervently with each touch he bestowed upon her.

"Always," he replied huskily after he had bent to kiss her again and she slipped her tongue between his lips eagerly, her hands lightly stroking the skin on his neck and making him shiver before he pulled back yet again, wrestling with his garments with renewed vigor.

"_Take me_," she barely whispered as he drew down to kiss her a third time, and he was lost, his hand flying to his wand and silently casting the remaining clothing from their bodies to the floor. His wand, too, rolled off of the duvet, rattling loudly as it hit the wooden floor and it barely registered in his mind.

All he could think of was her taste, her scent, the sensation of her soft, yielding body under his as he whispered into her hot mouth how he would take her and take her as many times as they both could bear.


	89. Chapter 89

_**Author's Note: So I was thinking that, in anticipation for Chapter 100 (it's only several chapters away-holy moly!), I might just do a little Author Q&A. So if you have a question about my writing process (or anything else you think you'd like to know, please send me a message and I'll add it to my list for the big 100. I'm interested in hearing what you are curious about! Also, I just want to thank everyone who has commented so far- it helps motivate me and keep me writing, even when my kids are climbing on my back while I'm trying to type and my brain feels fuzzy. Now, then, on with the show!**_

* * *

**Chapter 89: The Journey Back to Hogwarts**

Hermione sprinted through the wall to reach Platform Nine and Three-Quarters alone, shivering more from the cold morning air than the sensation of passing through a seemingly solid brick barrier. She wished that Severus could see her off, but she understood why such a thing was impossible, which was why she had savored the slow build of pleasure that languid unhurried morning sex had provided them both only hours before.

He'd played her like an instrument, running his fingers and his tongue over the places she liked best and thin walls or no thin walls, she couldn't help responding loudly to his attentions, sure that she was going to shake the house down around them both with her ululations.

It was at times like this, when he would slip fingers inside of her, licking her most sensitive places, areas she would normally feel horribly embarrassed to have anyone see, much less become intimately acquainted with, that she found that even as he made her squirm and moan, it was because she trusted him completely that she could fully let go of her inhibitions.

Even when she was bucking against his body and calling out his name as he wrapped her hair around his fingers and pulled her close, hissing her name back to her through heavy breaths, the look on his face almost radiant in pleasure and wonder as he sought to meet her eyes with his, there was a placid flow of joy running under the frantic thrum of desire and release.

_Being with Severus is like coming home. _

The thought bubbled up to the forefront of her mind and she was struck by how absolutely true it was, how it sat in her belly like a small fire that burned steadily both day and night, growing in intensity whenever he was near.

She wondered if he felt the same and then shook her head, mentally berating herself for doubting him.

_Of course he feels the same way! His actions may speak louder than his words, but he would certainly never fight the way he does to be with me if he were not as committed as I am!_

It also didn't hurt that he had obviously figured out how to entice her body to reach an orgasmic peak in a variety of ingenious ways, some of which she had not even known were possible. When it came to her body, it was clear that he enjoyed everything about her, even the messy or imperfect parts that normally made her feel incredibly self conscious. And when she saw his twisted, scarred, wiry body bare and begging for her touch, so too did she find herself driven with an almost mad desire to give as good as she got, the cycle of carnal pleasure intensifying even as they both meant to ready themselves for their respective journeys back to Hogwarts. Which is why she had almost been late, sprinting to the station, not minding a bit as her gasping breaths sent a thrill of pleasure through her belly when she remembered how she had breathed like this against his naked body less than an hour before.

"Out of my way, fuzzy!" A familiar, curt voice said irritably, brusquely interrupting her thoughts, and Hermione stepped aside to watch a tall and very disheveled Draco Malfoy stalk past her.

"Git," she muttered darkly to herself, as there had been plenty of room for him to go around her, but King Yellow Snake of the Morons apparently thought that walking slightly to the side was beneath him.

If he heard her contemptuous snarl, he made no motion to turn back or reply and stepped smoothly onto the train as soon as it came to a complete halt.

Hermione made sure that her prefect badge was pinned on straight. She was glad that she had left Crookshanks at school. It had made her final packing much easier, especially since the little ginger beast was not a very big fan of Snape. The flat-faced creature was not too fond of the lanky dark professor after the incident in the Shrieking Shack with Sirius Black back in her third year. She hoped that he would not be averse to living in the tall, gloomy house on Spinners End. After thinking about it at length, though, she was beginning to think that he would likely do better in Australia than cooped up in the tall, foreboding house.

The Hogwarts Express was very empty this time around, and for good reason. Many parents, at least those who hadn't pulled their children from the school and fled the country, felt that Hogwarts was the safest place their children could be, so many students had stayed behind for the holidays this year. No one wanted to chance having their children snatched on the way out of the train station.

Hermione had an entire compartment to herself for the first time she could remember. After she had taken a stroll through the train and realized that most of the students were still sleeping off their holiday overindulgences, she had sought out this compartment because it was the same one she had sat with her two best friends on that fateful first ride. She remembered the small chocolate frog card that had somehow gotten stuck in the ceiling vent, grinning when she remembered how cross Harry had been when it had lodged itself up there halfway through the trip. She stretched out on the seat, feeling a bit chagrined when she had to pull her knees up to keep from bumping her head against the armrest. She knew that even if she grew a few inches in the next couple of years, she would never be tall, but at least she wasn't as short as she had been seven years before. Still, being unable to stretch out was somewhat vexing.

Hermione lay on her back, looking at the ceiling, exhaling deeply as she felt herself relax. The train was moving steadily now, and the frosted windows hid the gloomy winter weather outside as it moved onward towards its destination. Hermione pulled her wand absentmindedly from her bag on the floor, charming some small paper birds into being. With her free hand, she rubbed her abdomen, untucking her shirts and the magical undershirt that kept her looking as trim as she was when she had started the school year until she could feel the obvious, firm lump that lay underneath it.

She hadn't yet felt anything that could be construed as "kicking" from the little life that grew snugly inside of her womb, but she had felt strange, bubbly feelings that made her go all weak in the knees when she felt them. It was most certainly different than gaining some extra weight over the holidays- Hermione was intimately acquainted with the squishy extra bulk that had accumulated there once or twice after a particularly indulgent Christmas holiday.

Still, sometimes it was hard to remember that she was, indeed, growing a small human inside her womb. Her morning sickness had thankfully passed, and now it was only when she fully undressed that she noticed the slight bump that had developed under her navel. To be honest, it was the darkened color of her nipples that had freaked her out the most when she first noticed them, almost squeaking with surprise when she pinched one and saw small white drops of milk welling up from multiple small glands on the surface of her nipple.

She had tried describing her condition a number of times in the mirror while running her hands over the telltale spot, more to make herself believe it was actually happening than anything else, but had ended up red-faced and embarrassed after a couple of words into it. Having confessed her pregnancy to her parents had been hard enough.

A large bottle of prenatal vitamins she had secured from the pharmacy (with the label torn off just in case someone were to find them and ask questions) was stored snugly in the little beaded handbag she'd received from Severus for Christmas. The bag itself was such an innately useful thing, even though it stayed in her school bag most of the time.

Suddenly, she felt a warm throb against the hollow of her throat and, setting aside her wand and allowing the paper birds to flutter about the cabin in an adorable manner that should have only been reserved for a princess movie, she pulled the bead from under her shirt and looked at the message that had appeared upon it.

_Be careful of Draco._

Hermione snorted. She didn't like the prissy lout, and he'd behaved frighteningly while under the influence of the Schadenspiritus inside his Mark that time back in the dungeons, but even Draco wasn't stupid enough to do something dangerous on the Hogwarts Express. Besides, he had obviously wanted to be left alone, and she would be happy to do just that.

She picked up her wand and sent a message back to him.

_Will do. You too._

She had sent the message, only then realizing that the words might be construed in more than one way. Moments later, she received a reply.

_I look forward to it._

Hermione blushed. With only five words, her body had reacted as though he'd been right there, stroking his fingers across her skin. She ached with the memory of his weight pressing upon her and how her mind seemed to go blank except for the sensation when he slipped snugly inside of her. She tucked the bead back under her shirt and grinned drunkenly up at the birds, which were flying in a ring over her head as though she were in a cartoon and had just been stunned.

It was going to be hard not to run straight for his office once she arrived, even though she knew it would be a terrible idea that could get both of them caught. Still, she indulged in a bit of daydreaming about exactly what sorts of naughty things she would get up to with the man whose black eyes had stolen her heart and whose skillful fingers made her ache deliciously with unspent desire long before she reached completion.

Her reverie was interrupted by a passing shadow at the glass windows of the compartment's door, and Hermione sat up abruptly, pulling down her school robes, which had hitched up embarrassingly to her thighs. Long blonde hair so fair it was almost white disappeared out of her view and she almost called out Luna's name before she realized that the girl probably couldn't hear her from the other side of the door, even with the windows set high in the paneling.

Hermione slid open the door and peeked her head out, making sure to keep her wand at her side. She saw Luna sliding through one of the doors a few compartments away from her own. Hermione followed cautiously, not wanting to be pitched this way and that by a sudden bump or jostling of the car. Something instinctively told Hermione to hang back, and she slowed down as she peeked through one of the small, rectangular windows, gasping when she realized what she was seeing.

Draco was sitting on one side of the compartment, his head in his hands. His long legs were splayed out on either side of him as though he were playing catcher at a baseball game. Hermione couldn't hear much from her side of the door, but she could see he was shaking and...were those _tears_? She exhaled sharply with surprise when she realized that she was actually watching _Draco Malfoy,_ of all people, _crying his eyes out_. But her eyes widened even further when she realized that his usual cronies were absent and instead, who should be standing at his side with a hand on his shoulder than…._Luna_?!

The eccentric Ravenclaw student had her wand behind her ear as per usual and was wearing some strange sort of see-through cape with metallic multi-colored stars over her school robes. Her lips moved, but what she was saying was so soft that Hermione could not hear what she was saying. Her body language, on the other hand, was crystal clear. Luna Lovegood was _comforting_ him.

Hermione wasn't sure what to think about this development. Obviously, she had never really thought of Luna as being interested in boys, much less Slytherin boys with ties to dark magic and a penchant for acting like a spoiled brat with Daddy issues. But, considering that she did live in a world where magic was real, dragons existed and the Weasley twins, whom everyone had incredibly low hopes for while they were in school, were actually doing quite well for themselves, the idea of Luna fancying the crying boy was not completely out of the realm of possibility.

A vindictive part of Hermione secretly hoped that he would say something nasty enough to make Luna see him for what he truly was- a snake in the grass. But on the other hand, she had trouble thinking of anyone, even bratty, stuck-up Draco, as a completely lost cause. So part of her wondered if maybe Draco simply needed someone to care for him, someone who could show him the error of his ways.

Although, it was always possible that Luna had simply figured out a way to recruit Draco to hunt for Nargles with her, and the mental image of Draco wearing an explorer's outfit complete with pith helmet and caked with mud made her snicker involuntarily. Luna's wide, icy blue eyes darted in her direction and Hermione froze as the spacey girl drew one finger to her lips in a silent shushing motion. Hermione pulled back, her heart in her throat, and before her brain could properly catch up with her feet, she found herself sprinting down the hall to her open compartment door and sliding it shut as quickly as she felt she could get away with. Then she lay back, trying to look as though she had been concentrating on her little paper birds, (who had decided to create a tiny paper nest out of strips of the parchment she'd left on the opposite seat), just in case the Lovegood girl tracked Hermione down with questions.

But the inquiry never came. Hermione spent the entire ride back on her own, letting her ears take in the steady click-clack of the wheels on the rails rolling underneath her and before too long, she found herself dozing. As she blinked in and out of consciousness, she could have sworn she smelled the distinctive fragrance of a familiar black wool cloak and the underlying scent of the man who wore it well upon his long, lean body. It encircled her like a blanket, familiar and comforting, and she smiled peacefully as she drifted deeper and deeper still into a dreamless state of sleep.


	90. Chapter 90

**Chapter 90: A Perfect Moment In Winter**

Hermione was on her way from the train station when she felt a familiar warmth rise against her skin. With so few other students on the train, it was easy to lag behind, forgotten. She knew that classes wouldn't be starting until the next morning and she had been finished with her assignments since before the break, so she allowed herself the indulgence of slowing her pace and allowing herself to daydream about the events of the morning.

To her relief, neither Luna nor Draco had turned up to ask questions about her peeping escapade on the train, but then again, Hermione had only awoken when the train had jerked to a halt, which had knocked her off of the seat altogether, so she was far too busy picking herself up off the floor of the compartment and feeling thoroughly embarrassed about it to notice who was passing by.

Pulling the conversation bead from under her robes, she looked at the message.

_Look to your left._

Hermione's heart leapt. Even though she had no idea what she was expecting, she looked down the little path, which seemed more like a muddy deer trail than anything, her face lit up with anticipation.

There was no one there.

The small boulder was far too tiny to hide a person, and the bare, snow-laden tree was far too withered to provide a hiding spot. Hermione began to feel as though she had been tricked and it didn't help that it was getting colder by the minute.

Her confusion must have been obvious, because the bead warmed in her hands a moment later and she watched the message appear on it.

_Look closer. _

Hermione squinted and began to walk slowly towards the boulder, her eyes suddenly drawn to a slightly shimmery bit of air. Then she noticed the indentation of boots in the slushy snow and her eyes narrowed as she continued forward slowly.

Without warning, there was a loud billowing snap in the air and dark robes swallowed her, the arms underneath them grasping her tightly.

Hermione squeaked loudly in surprise, and her eyes widened when she realized that Severus had been standing there, fully Disillusioned in the snow, waiting for her.

And for a few minutes, they were the only two people in the world, and Hermione could only think of how warm he was, how heavenly his mouth tastes and how she suddenly felt like all was right in the world again.

"It is as cold as a harpy's hindquarters out here!" he muttered darkly when they came up for air, but his arms held Hermione tightly and she felt her cheeks going rosy with desire for him.

It would have been terribly romantic had they been in a fictional story, the kind with pretty flurries of snow that artfully dance across the screen with string-heavy music playing to heighten the mood.

But as it was, the snow was beginning to come down more like hard bits of hail than languid flakes, and Hermione could feel the snowy mud on the ground turning the insides of her shoes into a muddy slush.

Still, it took a good dose of willpower for them to break the hold they had on one another, and when they finally did, they were panting and red faced, drunk on the taste of their desire for one another.

"Tell me that isn't the last time we're going to do that," Hermione said breathlessly as she looked into his eyes and rolled her bottom lip under her teeth.

"That will not be the last time we do..._that_...among other things," Severus replied thickly, his mouth curling into that secret smile, the one that made his face seem years younger and smoothed out the haunted hollows around his eyes.

They were leaning towards one another, then, as though they wanted to kiss again but were worried that they wouldn't be able to stop if they did. As though in silent agreement on a compromise, they began tracing one another's hands with their fingers, and it felt as though there was an invisible magnetism between their bodies, causing Hermione to look up and meet his gaze, which drew them closer until they were nearly nose to nose, hot puffs of breath floating through the air like little fluffy clouds.

The moment was shattered by the brassy, hearty voice of Hagrid calling loudly for Hermione. Startled, she broke contact and turned, their hands falling to their sides. She missed the tiny flicker of sadness that passed over his dark eyes, as she was caught up with wondering how far off the friendly half-giant was and worrying whether or not they would be caught.

Part of her almost hoped they would be. She wished that it would be possible to make their relationship public so that she could kiss him whenever she damn well pleased, even though she knew that such a scenario would be disastrous in reality. She wished, and not for the last time, that she could live in a fictional world where things were easy and simple, unlike real life.

"Soon," she heard him say, as though he were reading her mind, but that was impossible even with Occlumency, as her eyes were trained on the path behind her.

The sound of fabric snapping and fluttering against itself made her turn back abruptly, but he had already vanished.

"Ah, there yeh are, Hermione!" Hagrid's shadow was long and almost completely covered Hermione, though he was still at least twenty feet away, "Whatcha doin' over this way? Nothin' out there but deep forest, yah know? It's as cold as...well...a cold thingy, tha's fer certain."

The gameskeeper wore a giant fur coat that looked like it had taken a couple thousand small animals to make, but his friendly face and wide smile was a welcome sight even though he had interrupted what was sure to be her last chance to be alone with Severus for awhile.

"Let's get yeh back teh my place an' I'll put the kettle on so you can warm up a bit, eh?" Hagrid boomed, and Hermione felt herself smiling despite the lump that seemed to be lodged in her throat. Hagrid's exuberant personality was quite infectious indeed, though, and she forced herself to stand up straight, smiling tentatively at the kindly half-giant.

"I'd love to!" Hermione replied as Hagrid checked her name off on his clipboard and escorted her back to campus.

Hermione was not one to talk to the paintings all that often. While it had been a bit fun to ask the paintings about what life had been like when they had first been hung on the walls, most of them were less interested in talking about history and far more interested in the latest gossip, which Hermione detested. The Fat Lady, whose painting guarded the Gryffindor dorms, was unfortunately a huge gossip, both metaphorically and literally, and Hermione tried to avoid having to go in through the door alone, lest she be bored to tears by one of the Fat Lady's tirades.

So it came to her as a welcome surprise when she approached the Fat Lady's painting and the woman appeared to be laying uncomfortably across a chaise lounge that she had obviously pilfered from the painting of a 19th century salon on the third floor. She wondered silently if she might just be able to slip by quickly.

"Ugh! My head!" The Fat Lady moaned, "Never again! Never again!"

_Apparently not. _

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but-" Hermione began, but she was rudely interrupted as the Fat Lady rolled over and began blubbering loudly.

"Men!" The Fat Lady cried, large, oily tears running down her face, "They're all horrible ruffians! You can't trust the lot of them!"

"Well, that's nice and all, but can you please let me in? I just gave you the password, and-" Hermione rolled her eyes when she thought the painted woman wasn't looking at her, but that didn't seem to stop the woman from howling loudly over the rest of her sentence.

"I'd fancied him for ages! He knew it and still he broke my heart, the blunt bastard!" The Fat Lady exclaimed, trying to stand up and then, thinking better of it, sank back down and rubbed her temples. She turned and stared at Hermione as though she had just realized that the bushy-haired Gryffindor was there.

"_**You**_!" She shouted at Hermione, "You've been fraternizing with the enemy!"

"I have _not_!" Hermione shouted back, her cheeks going pink as she suddenly thought back to that kiss in the cold only a short while ago.

"Well, in any case, I have decided to change the password," the Fat Lady sniffed sulkily, "It shall be 'abstinence'- from wine, from men, from all of the things that bring misery in the harsh light of morning!"

"Very well," Hermione said, gritting her teeth and suppressing thoughts of doing the exact opposite with her professor, "_Abstinence_. Now will you let me in? Please?"

"Why certainly, dear."

The painting swung forward slightly and the Fat Lady lowered her voice, motioning for Hermione to come closer.

"Do be careful of that Professor Snape fellow," she said, wincing slightly as her head twinged from her obvious hangover, "I've seen how he looks at you. When you've been around as long as I have, you notice things. He's a bad egg, that one."

Hermione forced herself to nod stiffly and went up to her dorm to drop off her things. Just as she reached her bed, petting Crookshanks, who merely opened one yellow eye at her touch, she realized that she had forgotten to give Hagrid his Christmas gift-a seven foot hand knitted scarf in Gryffindor colors that she had worked on all that summer but hadn't finished until just before school had let out. She felt like such an idiot for forgetting it, especially seeing that it was wrapped in a bulky lump, the charmed paper decorated with dragons that still moved feebly across the paper, but she supposed that with all the cold weather, that Hagrid would probably still appreciate the warmth of the extra long garment.

Grumbling to herself and hoping that the Fat Lady wouldn't whine her ears off when she returned, Hermione headed back out to the entrance of the school, hoping that her friends would return from the Burrow soon. She hoped that they had plenty of things to talk about that would distract her from how little she could share.

She smiled and touched her fingers to her lips, and she could have sworn that she could still remember the taste of his mouth upon hers. She swore to herself that she would not forget it, no matter what was to come.


	91. Chapter 91

**Chapter 91: Machinations **

Severus Snape had no sooner entered his classroom, intent on straightening up his materials for the following day, when he heard a familiar, infuriating knock on the door.

He briefly considered pretending not to hear it, but then thought better of it, reasoning that the sooner he opened the door, the sooner he could shut it in that meddling fool's face.

"Ah, Albus," he said sardonically as he opened the door, "What a surprise."

"I trust there are no hard feelings about last night?" Dumbledore remarked by way of greeting the scowling professor.

"None whatsoever," Severus replied darkly, his mouth a thin line as he crossed his arms.

"I see that you are already preparing your materials for class tomorrow. How delightful. Wouldn't Lily be pleased if she could see you now?" Albus said glibly, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"Do _not_ mention that name," Severus replied sharply, his eyes hardening, "I am not in the mood to be manipulated by my past, Albus."

The twinkle faltered in the headmaster's blue eyes, revealing something cold and unpleasant underneath and Dumbledore cleared his throat unnecessarily loudly before continuing.

"Are you familiar with a Hermione Granger?" Dumbledore asked innocuously.

The question was so sudden that without realizing it at first, Severus had widened his eyes slightly in surprise before he was able to tighten his control on his expression, choosing to twist his face into a scowl and sneer derisively instead.

Dumbledore chuckled. Damnable man had _noticed_.

_Fuck_.

"So you do know of her, then," the Headmaster simpered.

"How could I not?!" Severus snapped, letting his irritation play out to his advantage, "Even if you did not spend hours going on at length about your precious _Golden Trio_ and throwing them into situations that are dangerous beyond belief, especially for mere _children_, I have had to put up with that bushy-haired menace in my classes every damnable year for the past six years. She is always front and center with her arm in the air as though she is the only one who is supposed to be answering questions. I am the instructor, yet..._Miss Granger..._sees fit to undermine my authority, acts like a know-it-all to the detriment of her classmates, who feel they have the carte blanche to goof off because she craves constant attention!

And the fact that she somehow used a Time Turner without blasting a damned hole in Time itself and making sure that none of us even existed was less because she was responsible and more because she is literally so dull-witted when it comes to anything other than memorizing facts, she is unable to come up with an original idea, even if she tries!"

Dumbledore was quiet as the lanky professor finished his tirade, and Severus felt his eyes flashing dangerously when he realized that the old wizard had the gall to smile wanly from under his beard.

"You can be so uptight, Severus. I thought that you didn't even enjoy teaching," Dumbledore said mildly, fumbling in his pockets, "Ah, there they are! Would you care for a lemon drop, Professor?"

"Keep your sodding lemon drops, Albus," Severus replied tersely, "Is there a point to your infuriatingly vague questioning? If not, I would like to request that you leave me in relative peace for the remaining hours I am afforded before I am forced to sit in that echo chamber of cacophony that you call the Great Hall and endure the endless chatter of the brainless, dunderheaded clods that you call students!"

"I merely require your assistance in a small matter regarding the girl," Dumbledore replied evenly, clacking his candy loudly against his teeth in a manner that made Severus want to throw something, but he merely clenched his fist so tightly that he could feel the blood draining from his fingers. Anything to keep the old coot from getting the satisfaction of knowing he had touched a nerve.

"And exactly what do you need from _**me**_?" Severus snarled, "I barely even speak to the girl other than to reprimand her when she deserves it!"

"Oh, yes, I understand all of that," Dumbledore said, amusement playing across his face, "Which is why I am merely suggesting that you pair her with the Weasley boy for the next couple of class practices and group projects."

"Is that all?" Severus said sarcastically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, "I had not pegged you as the matchmaking type, Albus."

"It is of great importance that Ron has a more...physical reason to stay with Harry and Hermione when things get rough. I won't be there to guide them forever," Dumbledore looked off into the distance pensively.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that, you conniving bastard?" Severus exclaimed exasperatedly, "You cannot blame _everything_ on me, you know, much as you might wish to do so!"

"It isn't a question of fault, Severus, and you know it," Dumbledore said kindly, with the same tone with which he had ensnared his spy all those years ago; a voice that spoke of better times ahead, of a cause that would stop the ills of the world. Now it just fell flat. There was no chance at a happy ending with such a great cost to be paid.

"There must be another way, Albus!" Severus said tiredly, as he thought of the horrible thing he had pledged to do to the man before him when the time came, "We could explore options that do not include betting the balance of our entire world on a couple of teenagers who still have trouble wiping their noses and playing another couple of months of cloak and dagger at the expense of your life! Because, though I freely admit that I imagine throttling you from time to time, I honestly do not wish death upon you."

"And who do you suppose the Dark Lord is going to place as Headmaster when I go off into hiding or some such rubbish?" Dumbledore countered, his voice flat and controlled, "Bellatrix? Maybe he will decide upon Grayback, just to make things interesting. You know that you must show him that you are worthy and we both know what you must do in order to achieve that. It is a shame you're so rubbish at Wizard's Chess, Severus. Even Mr. Weasley knows when to sacrifice the queen."

Severus clamped his jaw together to stop himself from saying anything he knew he would regret and simply stared balefully at the old wizard.

"I have taken steps to...disentangle Weasley from his current beau. I believe a giant silver necklace would make anyone run for the hills, don't you?" The headmaster said quietly, his eyes severe, "I trust that you can do your small part to help nudge Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger in the right direction?"

Severus nodded curtly, refusing to meet the Headmaster's eyes.

"Good, now then, I find myself in need of the lavatory. I will see you at supper time, Severus," Dumbledore waved his good hand and turned around, meandering off down the hall.

"Ugh, as though I needed to know the headmaster's toilet habits," Severus muttered after he had slammed the door shut and locked it for good measure.

Still, the prospect of playing even the tiniest part in Dumbledore's newest scheme made Severus feel nauseated. Even if he wasn't already secretly involved with Hermione, it was pretty low even for Dumbledore to be manipulating people's hearts.

Still, the old goat seemed to be convinced that his actions were for the greater good, and what's worse, he had seemed comfortable, even cavalier about doing it.

An uncomfortable weight pressed into his chest when he remembered his own school days, when the rise of Voldemort had seemingly coincided with a marked separation of the various Houses. In fact, when he thought hard about it, it seemed that most of the Gryffindor students around his age had married young and from within their House.

It was too much to be mere coincidence, not when Dumbledore was involved.

A feral growl escaped his lips as he came to the only possible conclusion.

_That bastard_.

All this time, he had blamed himself, blamed James Potter, even blamed Lily, especially after she had so harshly rebuked him. But never once had he even _considered_ that the Headmaster might have been involved.

_That sick bastard. And he dares to go on about the power of love?_

He was so upset that he forgot all about getting his teaching plan in order for the next day, and after a few ineffective minutes of furious pacing, he decided that he needed to cool his head.

Donning his voluminous black robes once again, Severus Snape cut a frightening path down the halls of Hogwarts. Even Peeves, who had never feared anyone save the Bloody Baron, took one look at the foul expression on the professor's face before turning around abruptly and sliding down the bannister singing a raucous tune about beans and musical fruits.

_If he wants a murderer then maybe I should give him what he wants. _

He didn't smile at this dark thought. But he could feel his Mark tingle pleasurably in a way that he hadn't felt in years, urging him to give into his desires.

And for the first time in so many years, his could feel his resolve wavering.


	92. Chapter 92

**Chapter 92: Double Entendres **

Hermione had almost reached the doors that led outside when she heard someone quietly clear their throat behind her. Whirling around (which wasn't easy, as she was carrying Hagrid's lumpy gift in both hands), her eyes widened in surprise when she realized that Dumbledore was standing a few feet away, clad in a periwinkle blue set of robes with fine silver embellishments. He smiled warmly at Hermione, but she couldn't help but feel like he had ambushed her. Remembering how Harry had mentioned the Headmaster's aptitude for Occlumency, she smiled and dropped her eyes to the package she carried, as though she needed to focus on it to keep from dropping it.

"I see that you've returned from your holiday," Dumbledore said affably, "I trust all was well?"

"Oh yes, sir," Hermione replied, her eyes focused on a tiny stomping dragon on Hagrid's package that looked uncannily like Norbert.

"I hear that your friends will be here soon through the Floo. If I may be so bold, may I ask for what reason you are planning on braving the unpleasant weather outside yet again after already having been out in it?" the Headmaster smiled, crossing his arms as he stroked his beard with his good hand.

"I forgot to give Hagrid his Christmas present," Hermione replied sheepishly, "I guess I was in such a hurry to catch the train back in December that it slipped my mind completely."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore mused, "I sometimes forget that even our most veteran students get homesick too. After all, I like for students to think of Hogwarts as a home away from home, don't you agree?"

Hermione chanced a wary glance at the Headmaster, but he was gazing mildly over at a statue near the doors as though he were distracted by something.

"I've always enjoyed being here, sir," Hermione said respectfully, "But sometimes it is good to have a change of scenery."

"Yes, yes, very true, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied fondly, "I don't suppose you would mind if I tagged along with you to Hagrid's humble abode, would you? It seems that I too have business with our tallest professor and to be completely honest, I confess that I wasn't looking forward to walking there alone."

Hermione felt a stab of conflicting emotion, especially since she knew that there was no reason to for the Headmaster to go out into the cold, as Dumbledore would likely see the bushy-bearded half-giant at supper time, but she held her tongue, knowing that even though Dumbledore had never been anything but kind and helpful (though he did have a tendency to be infuriatingly vague), he was still the highest authority in the school and Hermione was not fond of upsetting order as long as there was a clear purpose and method to it.

But after what Severus had told her the other night when they had been wrapped tightly together in the afterglow of orgasm, she wasn't willing to trust the man as thoroughly as Harry. Anyone who assumed the worst of others without any proof and figured out how to twist and manipulate people effortlessly was someone to watch out for, regardless of his motivations and whether or not it was for some nebulous "Greater Good."

Hermione put on the best smile she could muster, crinkling her eyes as she faced the Headmaster.

"I'd be delighted to accompany you, sir," she said respectfully, "To be honest, I wasn't exactly excited about going out there again, but I'm always so intimidated when it comes to approaching the Head table during mealtimes, and I know that I will be busy with classes and researching come tomorrow morning."

"Excellent! Lead the way, then, Miss Granger, and we shall have a little chat to keep us warm on the way!" Dumbledore said genially, extending his hand towards the door in encouragement.

Hermione opened the door, expecting sharp bits of ice to pelt her in the face, but was pleasantly surprised when all that hit her was the still, cold air.

"A break in the weather! How fortunate!"

A rustle of silks announced Dumbledore's presence at her left side, and Hermione clutched Hagrid's gift more tightly, as though she were afraid it would be blown out of her grasp.

Dumbledore walked slowly, and Hermione could not help but look at the long sleeve covering the withered hand she had seen at the beginning of the year. She wondered if it was worse now. Something seemed more frail in the way the elderly wizard walked that she had never noticed before, though his long white beard was an obvious indication of his advanced age.

"I suppose that you are waiting with bated breath for your friends to return, yes?" Dumbledore said amicably, after a short pause, "I know that sometimes it can be hard to wait, but I am certain it will be well worth it."

Hermione crinkled her nose at this and furrowed her brow.

"Exactly what do you mean...sir?" she asked, trying to look as puzzled as possible.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Oh, my dear, I was merely saying that even I, with my old, tired eyes have noticed your fondness for your best friend goes beyond mere platonic love."

"What? I-! Wait….do you mean...Harry?! He's like…._my brother!"_ Hermione exclaimed, making a face, "And besides, it's obvious that he fancies….well, that's not really here or there, bu-but it's not me!"

"Oh, don't worry," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled to match the way the light shone upon his robes, "I was meaning your other friend, your Mr. Ron Weasley. Though, I am sorry if mentioning him has made you feel uncomfortable. I hear that he has recently caused you….pain. But if an old man might offer you some good advice, please do not despair. In time, nothing may stop what is truly meant to be as long as you open your heart to the possibility."

They had almost reached Hagrid's door, and Dumbledore rifled in his pockets for a moment or two before pulling out a roll of parchment.

"Please deliver this to Harry for me," Dumbledore said softly, handing it to her.

"Yes, sir," Hermione whispered back, not sure why she felt compelled to lower her voice as well.

"Oh, and Miss Granger?" Dumbledore said, his voice darkening suddenly as he turned to her and she could feel his eyes boring into her as she cast her gaze to the ground.

"Yes?" Hermione tried not to let her voice waver, but it suddenly felt colder than ever, and something like electricity seemed to pour through her skin and freeze her to her bones.

"I recommend that you do not fight destiny. It can get people hurt...or _worse_.." Dumbledore rumbled, "See that you do not find yourself responsible for needless suffering."

"I-I'm not sure I understand," Hermione stammered, her eyes widening as she realized that the Headmaster, in his way, was _threatening her._

"Destiny has a way of punishing those who fight it," Dumbledore responded, his eyes narrowed into slits, "Do you wish to find out how far it will go to achieve its ends? Let us hope that it doesn't have to come to burying the one you're meant to love."

"I-of course I don't want anyone I love to be hurt! Especially not Ron or Harry! They're my best friends!" Hermione cried out, her eyes tearing up despite her attempts to stop them from doing so and cursing herself for looking like a weak little girl in front of the angry Headmaster.

Dumbledore's manner shifted as abruptly as it had before, and he was back to being the harmlessly eccentric friendly wizard. But now, Hermione knew better, and she kept her gaze locked on her shoes.

"I have high hopes for you, my dear," he said, patting her shoulder, which stiffened in response to his touch even though he seemed not to notice, "I know that you will help your friends get through these dark times together. I have the utmost faith in your clever mind to discern _exactly what must be done_ for the greater good of our world."

He turned, then, and took several steps back they way they had come, turning to his side as though he'd remembered something.

"I have just remembered that the matter I needed to see Hagrid about can be attended to later, so I shall take my leave," Dumbledore pulled a hard candy from his pocket and placed it in his mouth, rolling it around and sucking on it, "I wish you luck, Miss Granger, but I know that you will do _great things_ as long as you are _mindful of my advice_."

Hermione turned and faced Hagrid's door, sniffing back tears and trying to compose herself before knocking on his door. Her hands were shaking as they gripped the paper of Hagrid's present hard enough to crinkle it up.

Dumbledore wanted her to get into a relationship with Ron? And was that a thinly veiled threat of harm towards those she cared about? Something uncomfortable twisted deep inside of her chest, and Hermione knew that she would need to be extra cautious of the old man and his scheming.

She knocked hesitantly, finding her heart lighten a bit when Hagrid's voice boomed out a greeting as he came to open the door, and she almost forgot about how frightened she had been when he gently unwrapped the gift so as to save the dragon print design and crying great big tears of joy when he saw the scarf and it fitted him perfectly.

But when she walked back to the castle, a chill wind was blowing small flecks of snow in her face, and she couldn't help but dwell on the fact that somehow, the castle itself seemed more foreboding now that Dumbledore had shown his true colors.

She wondered when she would ever feel safe again.


	93. Chapter 93

**Chapter 93: Time Slips Away**

Draco had been in a foul mood ever since he had returned from break. The only upside of the Christmas holiday had been spending time away from home as often as he could and the brief respite he'd enjoyed with Luna, but he found himself paying for his absences whenever he returned home in the evenings. The Dark Lord had decided to halt snatching new victims during the holidays to lull everyone into a false sense of security so that it would be even more terrifying once he started up again, and there were a number of Death Eaters who had gotten used to having a constant stream of victims.

So, of course, both Draco and his mother had taken the brunt of the abuse. Luckily, Narcissa was adept at healing magic, but Draco could still see the red marks where his skin had been pierced with white-hot pokers, and he found himself eminently grateful for the cold weather, as it gave him an excuse to cover his entire body.

Draco was not scrawny, but he did take after his mother's side of the family, so he tended towards a long, slim build, like a swimmer, though Draco had only swum a handful of times in his whole life and was not exactly a fan of the water in general. That and a growth spurt had him looking somewhat less substantial than any of the other male Death Eaters, which meant that he was generally seen as the lowest in status. It didn't help that he was still a student and not particularly well versed in using Dark spells regularly, while many of the others had been using Dark magic for over two decades.

The worst of it had been when Voldemort had Crucioed him right before he had been about to leave as a warning of what was to come if he failed to finish his task before the end of the school year. What was worse, Narcissa almost seemed to have known that this was going to happen, as she was right outside the door to the study when Draco stumbled out in agony, ready to dress his wounds and change his soiled clothing. It was humiliating and infantilizing to have to go through such a thing, but the worst of it was the look that he had seen in his mother's eyes, one that glanced furtively towards the study door like a prey animal pricking its ears upon hearing a predatory growl. And it was then that Draco knew that his mother was already being harmed by the Dark Lord.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Apparation lessons should have been a welcome distraction, but all that Draco wanted to do was sleep. He could lay in bed with his eyes closed all weekend long, but he still felt exhausted and drained. He should have been laughing at the Gryffindor students falling over and looking ridiculous, but then again, most of his fellow House members looked just as silly. And when his two favorite lackies cornered him, he knew that it was going to be a bad morning. Not only were they furious at him for having kept them out of the loop (obviously, both of them wished to make their fathers proud and become Death Eaters too, even though the chances were that they would only ever achieve cannon fodder status at best), but they had glommed onto Zabini as their interim leader, as Draco had been playing his hand infuriatingly close to his chest. He had finally relented and stationed the two in front of the Room of Requirement from time to time, but as an added deterrent to their meddling requests to be involved, he'd PolyJuiced them to look like first year female students from Slytherin. He had hoped that after the first time, they'd simply give up and go back to making toilets explode and harass Gryffindorks with Zabini, but he'd been wrong. The two dimwitted berks had decided that by taking on such a "humiliating" transformation, they were proving themselves more worthy to the Dark Lord each day. Still, it was obvious that Crabbe did not like wearing knickers and walking around without his twig and berries where it ought to be.

And they _had _eventually tapered off with their annoying requests to tag along when Draco was trying his damnedest to get up to work on his project in the Room. But still, both of them together were about as intelligent as a sack of moldy flobberworms, and Draco had almost bitten off Crabbe's head when he had seen Potter standing there looking smug and listening in on them. And even though he knew it wasn't possible at all, sometimes he got this weird _feeling_ that Potter was watching him, even when he was buried under the covers and trying to sleep the day away on the weekends. He almost couldn't think about schoolwork and had been given stern lectures from a number of his professors, though he'd tried hard to keep up at least a moderate show of aptitude in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Draco may still have had a chip on his shoulder when it came to Snape, but he also knew that as Head of Slytherin, Snape could make his life even more miserable if he wanted to do so.

The only thing that really pulled him out of his funk was when he'd be walking along and suddenly Luna would be right there next to him. It made him jump and swear loudly the first couple times she had done it, but after awhile, he got used to her presence. She would say things that he wasn't sure were an attempt to make him laugh or simply inadvertently successful in doing so, but he appreciated them. They took a number of meals together in the kitchens when Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini were trying to track him down on Saturday afternoons, and even though she never said anything, he could tell that she was glad for his company as well.

If anyone had asked him a year ago if he would be friends with the eccentric girl, he would have laughed in their face. But now, he found himself craving her company- consumed by the desire to see her, feel her hand upon his shoulder or arm as she would do almost instinctively when he felt himself sliding into a flashback of the torture he'd endured back at the Manor. He felt so damn weak for wanting that- the small weight of acceptance upon his body- a hand that did not ask or expect anything of him and was, other than his mother's, the only touch he'd received that came from a place of true concern.

He stuck to the inside of the castle as often as he could, but he had made sure to take his secret route out to refresh the Imperio spell on Rosmerta. He didn't know if it was his earlier sadistic sexual behavior (which he was now deeply ashamed of), but every time he visited, she practically tried to tear off his trousers. He had to order her not to touch him, but even so, he could see her body resisting against his command, and this made him feel even more horrible about himself. She had been beside herself with happiness when he had returned, but he only ordered her to watch and report back to him what she saw before leaving shortly afterwards. He was tired, so tired, of scheming that he had forgotten all about the poisoned mead that he had Rosmerta send before the break.

In fact, he had made some headway with his repairs on his primary objective, and this had him in a slightly better mood. Still, he had not been able to get it to work properly, and once the snow had melted and made way for the freezing winter rain, he knew that soon enough the sun would come out and spring would arrive. And if he didn't have his objective finished by the end of term, he might as well simply throw himself in the lake with a boulder tied to his feet because it would surely be less painful to drown to death than the torture he'd be forced to endure before being hit with the Killing Curse.

As ashamed as it made him feel to rely on anyone, he found himself thinking more and more of Luna. He found himself wishing that he could kiss her, though he knew that this would likely end in her abandoning him completely, and he couldn't risk that. Still, sometimes she would sit next to him in one of the secret corridors, their schoolwork spread out, and she'd lean against his shoulder to discuss something in one of his books, leaving him with a tingly sensation in his body, as though her body were slightly electrified and he was absorbing her energy.

He was often quite contrary, and still retained his haughty, standoffish demeanor when they were around other people, but when they were alone, he'd relax into her side, and she'd touch his arm or his shoulder. Once, she even rubbed his back and he almost felt like he would collapse under her sure fingers as she unknotted the tension that had knotted its way into his muscles. Whatever their relationship was, it hovered in an ambiguous place between friendship and more than friendship, and neither seemed willing to define it.

She never outright asked him what he was trying to fix, but she did spend time talking to him about how she had fixed her father's printing press multiple times, and would be happy to help him fix whatever was giving him trouble. When he had denied it, she'd simply pointed out his hands wrapped where he'd pulled splinters and bandaged blisters, and he didn't have a leg to stand on, going silent.

"When you're ready," she would say cryptically, studying him with her icy blue eyes, and leave it at that.

Draco only hoped that he would be ready soon, but in his heart he knew that he wasn't and was not sure if he ever would be.


	94. Chapter 94

**Chapter 94: Ramifications for Ron**

Hermione didn't know what to do. Not only had she been unable to be alone with Severus for over three weeks, but she had been completely stymied in her research on horcruxes, whatever they were. Even the all-access pass to the library couldn't seem to help her get more than a vague sentence or two that alluded to whatever a horcrux was. Ostensibly, at least Hermione had been able to come to the conclusion that a horcrux was likely a magical object, as she didn't see Voldemort putting much stock in any living creature, and it was obvious that he was obsessed with control. It was also a well-known fact that Voldemort sought immortality. Not just temporary life extension, but a complete inability to die.

_Though it does seem a bit strange that for a man obsessed with living forever, he seems to have wasted most of his life thus far. I'm not sure if he would really even know what to do with immortality, even if he were to achieve it._

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by Lavender squealing about something cute that "Won Won" did earlier that day to Parvati. Hermione was sitting in her bed with the curtains drawn, but they weren't soundproof and she'd been too lazy to cast a silencing spell.

As far as Ron was concerned, it seems that she had misunderstood Dumbledore's warning. If anything, Ron seemed just as happy with Lavender as before, though Hermione had been avoiding them both for good measure. Lavender was quite a lot more catty and jealous than Hermione had thought she would be about her boyfriend. Though it did seem that they mostly spent their time together locked at the lips in an irritating way that reminded Hermione of a pair of lips that she wanted to be kissing but couldn't, so she was actually quite glad that she wasn't transforming into Lily every time she found herself getting hot and bothered. After so long, _everything_ reminded her of _him._

But there were other complications, including the fact that she'd had to lock herself in the Prefect's bath and turn around the paintings so they wouldn't see her naked body. She did this with the pretense of being shy, but the truth was that she'd really begun to show now. What had looked a bit like a lump of holiday weight had popped out suddenly and was now taut and round, and without the magical garment to keep her looking her pre-pregnancy size, Hermione knew without a doubt that there was no way she would be able to fit into any of her pants or skirts or wear shirts without them pulling up and leaving her stomach bare with the proof of her condition.

The other thing is that she could now feel actual movements- small hiccups and tiny rolling sensations against the skin of her belly. She would spend time in the warm water with her hands resting against her abdomen, feeling the baby move. She couldn't dare to acknowledge it very often, even when she suddenly felt something stir inside of her when she was in the middle of class, so she found herself spending over an hour in the bath each day, wishing forlornly that the only thing that could make it better would be if Severus was under the foamy water with her. He hadn't yet had a chance to feel his baby move, and she could only imagine his reaction.

She'd also spend a lot of time avoiding both Harry and Ron when they were together, though to be honest, she was also somewhat mad at them- at Harry for being such a bloody show-off in Potions class (she often wished that Severus would substitute for Slughorn one day just to wipe that smug grin off of Harry's face), and at Ron for basically taking Harry's side when it came to everything. It didn't help that Ron had the empathy of a rock. His lack of tact and regular lip-locking sessions with Lavender didn't really help their friendship, either. Still, Hermione knew that all friendships had times like this, and she did her best to just give them space until her irritation passed.

It was also worrying that Severus had made a pointed effort to pair her and Ron for all of their Defense class projects and class practice sessions. Ron had been delighted, as Hermione always tended to do the lion's share of the work, but Hermione felt that his black eyes lingered sadly on her for a couple seconds too long when he made the selections, even though his voice was his customary grouchy snarl and no one else seemed to notice anything. Had Dumbledore said something to him as well? Did he suspect that there was something going on between the two of them? Hermione desperately wanted to talk to Severus about all of these things in detail, but it seemed as though he was trying to put space between them, and Hermione could guess why- it was all the Headmaster's fault. He was trying to be the martyr and protect _her_.

It made her want to _scream _in frustration.

The only thing that kept her going was sending short messages back and forth with him through the beads. She discovered that, he would intentionally stop himself from reading the message so that he could feel the tingling warmth for hours. Sometimes, she could see him at the head table or in the hall, one hand going to his wrist where the bead warmed against his skin. She found herself doing the same thing if she could, her fingers slipping down at her neck as though she were loosening her uniform's tie, and she could feel it there like a tiny spot of sunshine during the seemingly endless bleak, rainy days.

Dumbledore had been thankfully absent from the Great Hall during meals more often than he ever had before (well, discounting the time where he had been on the run from the Ministry while Umbridge had run rampant), and while Harry worried, Hermione felt a sense of calm descend upon her. In fact, she had almost forgotten about Dumbledore's warning until Ginny ran into her dorm room while she had been working on her Charms essay, her face drawn into a white, thin-lipped grimace that was so similar to her mother's, Hermione would have laughed if it hadn't obviously been a serious matter.

When she had heard that Ron had been poisoned by something in Slughorn's office and might possibly die, Hermione's heart began to beat so fast, she thought she would pass out. She had to take a number of deep breaths before she could follow Ginny to the infirmary. The whole way there, she couldn't help but think back to Dumbledore's warning about her friends getting hurt..or even dying if she didn't do as he suggested.

_But would Dumbledore actually stoop to poisoning Ron just because he won't break up with Lavender and I'm not acting all mushy and lovey dovey with him? And sure, I've never liked how Slughorn is so overt in his dismissal of people like Ron who don't have any power or prestige that he can glom onto, but I highly doubt that he could intentionally murder someone._

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as they reached the doors to the infirmary. Harry was there too, looking like he'd seen a ghost, his scar a bright pink against the pale dread set in his face. It would be hours yet until they'd be allowed in, according to him, and she found herself unable to say anything at all to him, her mind going a mile a minute with possible scenarios and a heavy sensation of guilt pressing upon her chest until she felt that she could barely breathe.

_What if I brought this upon Ron? What if I'm the reason he's in there?_

Her mental voice was no longer Lily's harsh whisper, but it was just as insidious, and she shook her head to try and distract herself, not trusting herself to speak, lest she break into tears.

In the end, he had called out her name weakly once they'd been allowed in to see him, which was a marked relief.

And no matter how angry she had been at Harry before for his brazen stunt in Potions class with the bezoar, she was more relieved than anything that it had happened so recently that it would have been in the forefront of his mind when Ron had collapsed.

It was times like these, in times of crisis and fear, when books and classes all fell by the wayside, that Hermione could feel her connection strengthen to her best friends, and she knew that she could no more abandon them than they could abandon her.

Still, when she and Harry had said good-night and returned to their respective dormitories, she lay in bed with one hand on her belly and wondered how the hell she was going to be able to hold it all together when it felt like everything was falling apart around her.

She had closed her eyes when she felt the warmth of the conversation bead pulse under her night shirt.

_Meet me?_

Her heart leapt and she pulled her wand from under her pillow.

_How and where?_

She had scarcely replied when she received a reply.

_Your window. Open it._

She looked out at the other beds. She was in luck. Lavender was not yet ready to come up from the common room, Parvati was doing some kind of project in the Ravenclaw common room with her sister and had told them not to wait up for her and Ginny was still in the bathroom taking a shower, though Hermione knew that Ginny was actually letting out all of the sorrow and fear that she couldn't show anyone else earlier when she had not known if her brother would live or die. Hermione left the curtains drawn around her bed and wrapped her bathrobe around her body. She opened the window, which was what seemed like thousands of feet above the ground, and shivered in the cold dark night. The only thing that seemed to be on her side was that the rain had temporarily subsided, though, if the dark clouds still rolling about in the sky were any indication, it would likely start up again soon enough.

"I'm here," she whispered out the window, not seeing anything in the moonless night, "I'm alone. The others haven't come to bed yet."

A flutter of movement and a shimmer of light seemed to dissipate as a black, floating figure slid from the side of the window so that he was looking in as though they were on the first floor.

"I detest heights on principle, but I needed to see you," Severus said by way of greeting, as though he had happened by her window by chance, "Can you come with me?"

Hermione looked at him with her eyes so wide that she would not have been surprised if they had fallen right out of her eye sockets and rolled to the floor.

"You can..._fly_?!" she hissed, trying to keep her ears pricked for the sound of anyone about to interrupt them.

"Your powers of observation are absolutely stunning, Hermione," he replied sarcastically, "But I did not come here to show off my abilities. So I shall ask you again. Will you come with me?"

Hermione gulped. It was very high up. If he were to drop her….she shuddered.

"I promise that you will be safe with me. I simply figured that this might be a slightly easier way of doing things than running through the entire castle and trying not to be seen," he replied, opening his arms and floating closer to her, "Now, are you going to come with me? It is your choice. I will not pressure you either way, though, if your messages from these past weeks have been any indication, I know that you have been feeling the same way that I do."

"Of course I'll come with you! As if there were any other option! Even though your methods are _highly_ _questionable_," Hermione said evenly, though her brain was screaming with vertigo as she pulled herself up onto the windowsill and dangled her feet out of the window.

"I have been told that I am a very _questionable_ man," Severus replied, arching his eyebrows, and for some reason, Hermione found this incredibly humorous, though it might have just been the rising sense of hysteria in her stomach as she realized just how questionable _her _decisions of late had been.

She tried not to look down, choosing only to meet his eyes, which seemed to pull her in as though they had a gravity of their own, and she held out her hands as he moved forward.

"Hold me around my neck," he said gently, moving into position, and with one swift motion, he had her gathered in his arms, one hand wrapping against her back and the other under her knees. His robes seemed to pull around her and she was wrapped tightly against his chest as he hovered high in the air.

"I'm going to close my eyes so I won't scream, but I just want you to know that I _do _trust you," Hermione whispered into his ear as she felt the wind pick up and beat against her cheeks.

"I will make it quick. I promise," he said softly, kissing her on the top of her head, and they were dropping, but not in the sort of way that always made Hermione's stomach flip while she was riding in a lift. It was more like a slow motion sense of sliding, as though he were riding upon the wind itself like a leaf floating down from the branches of a tree.

Halfway down, Hermione remembered in a panic that she'd forgotten to finish her Charms homework, but then they touched down on the ground and his lips were on hers and she was hungrily exploring his mouth as though it were for the first time in forever. And suddenly, for the first time ever, she no longer cared about her homework, because all she wanted was for this time with the one she loved to last forever.

"That was the craziest thing I've ever done," Hermione said breathlessly, "And I've done some pretty crazy things."

"You do know that I will have to take that as a challenge, right?" Severus purred into her ear, and she felt herself going weak in the knees with desire (though it could have been partially attributed to the fact that she had just come down from a high castle tower without so much as a parachute if things had gone wrong).

"I wouldn't dream of anything less from you," she said, grinning wickedly as he set her down and took her hand, keeping her close to his body as they made their way through a secret entrance into the castle. And all the while, Hermione could not help but keep grinning like mad at the constant dry warmth of his slim fingers and the rough palm of his hand. And as she followed Severus quietly, she could feel her heartbeat quicken as she realized that no matter what she had been told to do, there was no way that her heart could belong to anyone else in the world.


	95. Chapter 95

**;) Just so you know. Eventually. But angst first.**

**PS: Writing this chapter kicked my ass. So I hope you enjoy it. **

**Chapter 95: A Way To Keep Warm**

Severus had to force himself to pull away from Hermione, his cheeks flushed from the taste of her. It was dark outside the castle, but that didn't meant that someone or something would not come along and disturb them. He took her hand and she stayed close to him, her warmth almost burning in the coolness of his palm. Once they had taken the secret passage and descended the steep stone stairs that truncated in a wall, he silently cast an unusual spell that he knew only a handful of wizards had ever been clever enough to figure out and, with a final tap of his wand, the stones moved out of the way to create a small opening that led to his private chambers.

This was a perk of his particular location, one that had supposedly been built back when Salazar Slytherin himself had taken up residence in the office. Severus used this convenient pathway regularly to sneak out of the castle when called by the Dark Lord so as not to draw any unnecessary suspicion. It was an unspoken rule that when the new Head of Slytherin took over that any and all secrets should be left for the new Head to figure out, as it was testament to the cunning and ambition of each individual to prove themselves worthy to unlock the secrets inside to achieve their greatest potential. Severus had actually confirmed with a drunk and befuddled Slughorn that the rotund professor had never heard of such a passageway, and was secretly very pleased that it had only taken him three days to find it.

There was even a narrow passageway that connected with his offices, which is why he did not want to give up his offices for the traditional Defense professor's offices. It also didn't help that, no matter how much the room had been scrubbed and cleaned, he could still smell lingering perfume from Umbridge's usage of that particular area, a sickly sweet flowery scent that made him want to vomit.

But these thoughts were the furthest from the forefront of his mind as they entered his rooms. The stones had not yet finished sealing themselves back up before he had pulled Hermione to him, his body singing at the feeling of her pressed to him. She looked up, her pupils dilated with desire, and without even meaning to, his fingers were gently sliding under her chin and lifting her face to his. Their height difference forced him to stoop a bit, especially since she was much shorter than usual in her stocking feet and his boots gave him an added inch or so of height with which to loom.

But none of it mattered when their lips met once more. The sensation was so overwhelming that they couldn't help but moan involuntarily at the intimate touch of lips and tongues and heat. Their hands were touching, fingers lacing as though their bodies knew better than their conscious minds what they needed to feel whole again.

"Want," Hermione gasped into his mouth, her hungry eyes heavy with untapped lust.

"No," Severus growled back, his eyes feral and fierce, "Not want. _**Need**__."_

He pulled his wand without a word and their clothing fluttered to the floor. His robes hadn't even touched the ground before he was pressing against her from behind, his arousal growing exponentially at the sensation of skin against skin, marveling at her silky softness as he traced his hands up over the curve of her hip and around the front of her body. His eyes widened as he ran his fingers over the firm roundness at her abdomen, and he held them there, breathing in the scent of her hair as he caressed her belly tentatively.

Hermione felt herself stiffen at his touch. Would he find it gross and unattractive? What if he was one of those men who, when faced with the thought of sharing her with the attention of a child would make him want to run for the hills?

She kept flip flopping from feeling like a bear with cubs, confident that she could do everything on her own if needed, and feeling like she was increasingly in over her head. And that was saying something, especially considering how many brushes with death she had experienced the past six years.

In fact, death seemed a whole lot easier than caring for someone else's life.

"Beautiful," Severus breathed, interrupting her jagged thoughts, and she could feel her heart take flight as though his words had given it wings. And as much as she tried to hold herself back, Hermione could feel her eyes filling with tears even as she blinked rapidly to stop them from running down her cheeks and ruining everything.

"Look at me, Hermione," Severus said, his voice still husky and strained as he did his best to hold back the strength of his desire for her.

Hermione turned to the side, looking up at him, her eyes huge and shining in the candlelight, and she didn't even try to resist when he entered her mind, her eyes staring unblinkingly into his as what felt like a cool hand caressed gently against her thoughts and memories in a surprisingly pleasurable manner.

Severus could feel her hesitation and fears as though they were his own. He wished that he could tell her that he would make it simple for her, but he didn't know if he could honestly promise such a thing without lying, and Hermione deserved better than that, even from someone as surly and bad-tempered as himself.

Instead, he dug gently among her memories, bringing forward the many times they had writhed together in pleasure, the night where she had kissed his scars better with her magic and made him cry out as he lost control, when she had told him about her pregnancy and he had held her and been nothing but supportive of her choice. Even his proposal and her joy at the thought of entwining her life with his floated to the forefront of her mind.

Finally, he pulled back and used his thumb to catch a tear that had begun its descent down her cheek, licking the salty liquid with his tongue before catching her eyes again as she turned her body around to face him.

"Hermione," he began, his eyes pleading with hers as he placed his hands on her shoulders, "I cannot imagine living a life without you in it. That said, my life is not my own...yet. I still have things I must do, debts that I must pay, and masters to serve. It is my dearest wish that I be able to disentangle myself from all of these things so that I may focus on you...and all that entails."

"But..." Hermione said quietly , "There's a 'but' isn't there?"

"I tell you that I have to deal with a madman and a megalomaniac and you think that I am saving the worst for last?" Severus couldn't help but snort with laughter, "Leave it to you to imagine that there is anything worse than being used as the rope in a tug of war between two of the most powerful wizards in history!"

"But there _is_ something worse," Hermione replied, her face tensing at the thought of saying it.

"I promised you that I would try my hardest to survive all of this and see it through to the end," he said intensely, all hints of mirth now absent from his expression as he brought his lips close to her ear, nuzzling against her hair as he spoke, "But you must understand that, like it or not, both of us are walking a very dangerous path. There are no guarantees. For either of us."

She turned until she was facing away from him again and she couldn't help but shiver when she felt his arms slide around her as he wrapped her in his body.

"I am here now," he said softly, "I want _you_ always by my side. You are intelligent and beautiful and strong and stubborn as hell. You keep asking if you can live without me but what you should really ask yourself is whether I can live without _you_."

He reached and lifted her chin until she was looking up at him upside down and he was glad that their height difference was so pronounced that he could stoop down with little discomfort to nuzzle against her nose with his own.

His kiss was sudden and firm, but it was exactly what she needed, and she found herself falling into it, her mind going blank as she focused on the sensation of his cool, thin lips against hers. Of course, after a moment, it was clear that both of them were developing a pronounced crink in their necks, and he took her hand, turning her around and leading her to his bed gently.

Spreading back the blankets, Hermione realized that he'd placed black silk sheets underneath, which was a surprise. Normally he used plain white linen, which was soft enough, but not nearly as deliciously slinky against one's skin.

"Did you put these on the bed for me, Severus?" she asked softly, stroking her hand across the soft material, and he looked away, suddenly interested in a spot on the far wall.

"The others were dirty so I used these. Are they not to your liking?" he replied, a faint flush rising to his cheeks, and she knew he had, even though he didn't seem to feel comfortable telling her outright.

"They're lovely, thank you," Hermione smiled gently as she ran her hand across the material before she placed her hand upon his chest and pressed gently against it until he finally looked back and met her gaze once more.

She moved her hand gently upward, tracing his collarbones, sliding her fingers gently up his neck and finally resting her hand under the side of his jaw, smiling gently as he leaned into it. Moving slightly, he slid her hand to his lips in one deft movement, kissing her palm. He began to caress her shoulder and slide his hand down the side of her bare body, sliding his hand around to the firm gloves of her arse and rubbing the supple skin until a soft sigh escaped her lips. Hermione scooted over to him, her eyes wide and trusting as she closed the distance between their faces, and she grinned mischievously when he realized that she'd reached down with her other hand to stroke his belly briefly only to trail down to wrap her fingers around his cock, which had become somewhat flaccid during their heated exchange of words.

At her touch, a small sound escaped him, not loud enough to be a moan, but a noise of enjoyment nonetheless, and it was so much like the chirp of happiness that she got from Crookshanks every time she stroked his fluffy tummy, she almost laughed out loud at the similarity between the two.

She began to increase the pressure around his length as she stroked him, and was quite satisfied when he quickly regained the impressive erection he had been sporting before she had ruined the mood with her hang-ups and insecurities. She resolved that she wouldn't let herself do it again, especially when she didn't know when she would be able to be with him again. It didn't hurt that she was horny as hell from weeks and weeks without his touch.

Of course, all thoughts about her body being awkward and ungainly disappeared when he leaned in to kiss her and began to stroke her breasts, lightly tracing her nipples until she shuddered with the sensation, his hands cupping them softly as he trailed kisses down her neck and firmly ran his tongue over the special spot behind her ear that made her thrash and moan against him as though her nerves were on fire. Reaching down to caress her pubic mound was harder than before, but he managed, running his fingers on the soft hair that curled down into the apex of her thighs and then slipping two fingers between the folds underneath to find that she was already soaking wet inside.

Sliding his fingers inside of her for good measure, he smiled wickedly at her sharp cry of pleasure as she arched into his fingers, even as he bit down slightly on her shoulder, leaving a tiny red mark as she cried in delight.

"Lay on your back," he commanded firmly, delighting in her acquiescence as she did so eagerly.

Without another word, he pulled up her arse and placed one of the pillows under her lower back so that she was angled up for easier access. He could see her whole body laid bare under him, and he loved everything, from her hair spread out in a curly explosion around her head to her lust-drunk expression, to her pert, small breasts, to the swell at her belly that marked her as his. Severus found himself experiencing a surprising level of satisfaction and arousal at knowing she was carrying his baby. Even though he knew that he'd obviously filled her with enough of his seed to cause one to take root, the sensation of fucking her with the evidence of their past coupling in full view was incredibly hot. As he slid his cock inside of her, he rubbed his hand over her belly and Hermione's eyes fluttered open as she realized where his hand was.

"Mine," he said softly, "_Ours_."

Hermione smiled even as she began to moan softly as he began to slide back and forth inside of her at a steady pace. She was so wet and aroused from having been unable to be with him in so many weeks that, after his earlier ministrations, the simple sensation of his hand on her belly and the other on her hip for leverage was enough to make her feel like she was about to come. Soon, she found herself in the throes of orgasm, and he bent over her slightly, encouraging her as she found herself tightening around him, crying out as she peaked.

He wasn't finished, though. Not by a long shot.

Rolling her over while still inside of her, he had her get on her hands and knees, fucking her from behind while rubbing her clit gently until she came once more, and at the last moment, he pulled her up with his arms so she was nestled tightly against him from behind, lowering her as deeply as he could get as she squeezed and pulsed around his cock. He whispered naughty things into her ear as she came, running his hands over her breasts and her stomach, and she writhed against him, breathless for more. Finally, he asked her to get on top of him after he'd stacked the pillows against the headboard so he was propped up. She straddled him and slid onto his cock happily, moving at her own pace until he could see she was getting close. Her moans and squirms over his cock were divine.

"Severus," she moaned breathlessly, "I want you to come with me. Nghhhh, I would feel so good with you."

"The magic word?" he replied, and evil grin on his face, even as he felt himself twitch inside of her at her request. He wanted to come inside of her very, very badly. It had been a long time and his balls were so full that they ached.

"Oh god….hhhhggghhhh..._please_….Fill me up until I overflow….hanhhhhhh," Hermione was having trouble controlling herself, but she didn't want to come before he did. She grabbed him snugly with her pelvic floor muscles and he gasped despite himself.

"Very well….I will….ahh….come with you…hanhhh," Severus found himself saying as his breathing began to go all jagged and short. He was so close, so close, but he still wanted to hang back and make it last as long as he could.

"_Come inside of me, please, Severus, please_," Hermione was pleading over and over again, her voice going all squeaky and he felt her body tensing as her climax neared.

"Oh fuck, I-!" there were no more words in his head as he felt himself gripped tight in orgasmic bliss and he too felt all that built up pressure release his body so violently that he saw bright spots before his eyes.

It seemed to take almost a full minute for him to finish emptying into her, and by then, it was obvious that there was so much semen that she'd overflowed by quite a lot. But he didn't care about the mess or the fact that she had practically collapsed upon him after. He felt happy and contented with her body against his. When they were together, he didn't have to think about the horrible things in the world. He didn't have to worry about tomorrow or the day after that. They were safe in their own little world and he could dream about how it would feel to place a ring on her finger, to be a father, to grow old and have a long, boring life full of love.

Under all of the baggage that life had thrown his way, Severus Snape was a simple man. Sure, he liked to be challenged, but beyond that, he just wanted enough to provide a comfortable life, time to pursue his hobbies and to be loved and cared for by someone he could love and care for in turn. It hadn't been an option before, so he'd thought it a lost cause, but even now he could see how much it had warped him to live a life without it.

He found himself slipping into a post-coital stupor, and Hermione was the one who had to pull herself up and find her wand to clean them both up. When she was done, they spooned together, Hermione with her back to his body, as they slid under the sheets and piled on the blankets. He placed his arm around her and found his mouth going up at the edges in more of a satisfied smirk than a smile when his hand rested protectively over her abdomen and Hermione merely sighed happily and snuggled into his touch.

As though in response to his touch, he could feel a slight, fluttering movement under his fingers and the smirk widened into a genuine smile that he buried into Hermione's hair to hold back the small, joyful noise that threatened to escape his lips. It wouldn't do to lose all sense of respectability, after all. But he couldn't help but grin like an idiot as he heard Hermione's breathing even out as she slipped into sleep in his arms.

_This. This is what I was missing. _

"If only the morning would never come," he whispered to the little life that fluttered in time to the butterflies in his stomach before he too succumbed to slumber.


	96. Chapter 96

**Chapter 96: Misery Hates Company**

Draco found himself pacing restlessly around on the sixth floor, his mind in a daze. Rosmerta had passed him a note from his mother when he had taken his secret passage to the Three Broomsticks to refresh her Imperius Curse. Normally, he would have held out for another week, but Rosmerta had sent him a message via the medallion that something important had arrived but would not give him any further information.

The note had been written hurriedly, which was unusual, but when Draco had read what it contained, he understood clearly why his mother had risked Apparating to Hogsmeade.

His father had broken out of Azkaban and was home again.

The Ministry was trying to keep the entire incident hush-hush, but Draco didn't care about the politics. His mother had written the note in haste, so there weren't many details, but now that his father was free, he knew that he could work more wholeheartedly on his project in the Room of Requirement. His plan had been hinged on his father leading the charge. Aunt Bella had been crowing about how she was going to head a massive breakout from Azkaban any day all summer long. He should have known better than to think that she would follow through so readily, but then again, it wasn't as though school had prepared him to become a Death Eater.

And neither had his father.

Draco felt a twist of mixed emotions inside of his stomach. On one hand, he despised the fact that his father's disgrace and capture had made him, by default, the one to pick up the pieces after his father's failure, and most days he felt as though he were groping in the dark and hoping that no one would notice how hard he was pretending he knew what he was doing. He hated how his father often treated him like a brat to be appeased by gifts and excess. It had been nice to some extent when he was a kid, but in practice it was cold and impersonal. It built contempt in his heart by leaps and bounds with each passing year.

But on the other hand, Lucius was his _father_. And as much resentment and irritation he felt at his relationship with the man, he remembered his father reading stories to him every night when he was younger. Draco remembered being allowed to practice simple spells with his father's walking stick wand when he was only seven or eight years old, and how heartily the man had laughed when Draco had created a tiny twister that lifted a handful of autumn leaves into the air on his second try, ruffling his hair in a rare display of affection and making him promise not to tell his mother.

His mother…..his mother had mentioned that the dementors had….they had…._changed_ him.

Draco remembered the malevolent creatures from his third year and shuddered. It was bad enough when they were floating around the school with the express orders not to attack the students (which apparently didn't work all that well anyway). He could not imagine what it would be like to cower in fear of dementors with free reign in Azkaban.

A large lump rose in his throat and he was grateful when he rounded the corner and the boy's bathroom came into view. Not many students used the bathrooms on the sixth floor when classes were not in session. He ducked inside just as the lump turned into a despondent howl that poured from his lips as he hunkered over one of the sinks, almost not caring that he had begun to shake and tears had filled his eyes, plopping intermittently against the porcelain.

He felt so rotten, that he wished he was someone, _anyone_ else. Even Potter, which spoke volumes of how utterly rotten he felt. Slytherin house was supposed to offer true friendships, but the only people in his House who stuck near him were those who wanted something from him. Everyone else had long ago given up trying to make friends with him, especially when he was younger and more self-centered. He cringed as he remembered what a little shit he had been. But he also acknowledged that he was often just as much of a shit now, and the realization made him sob harder.

If all they cared about was his connections and his abilities, then they would not hesitate to abandon him and save themselves if he found himself in peril. No one was going to save him. No one would care. And Zabini, the bastard, he'd been planting the idea that Draco was soon to be a has-been in any meaningful social circle and that it was best to simply drop Draco's acquaintance altogether in Goyle and Crabbe's tiny little minds.

He chanced a look up at the mirror and immediately regretted it. His face was puffy and swollen, and he looked utterly wretched.

"Oooh, who's this, then?" a female voice called out, and Draco whirled around, only keeping himself from slipping to the floor by holding onto the sink with one hand.

A female ghost with glasses and a markedly morose facial expression was approaching him.

"Wh-who are you?" he sniffed, trying to compose himself, because even though she was a ghost, she might be one of those chatty ghosts who go around talking about what the supposedly most popular pure-blooded boy in Slytherin looks like when he's crying like a baby.

The ghost still looked like she was about to start crying, but strangely enough, she giggled in a creepy falsetto and turned up the corners of her somber lips.

"You want to know who I am? Nobody cares about me! They all say they'll come to see me but they never do," the ghost looked up hopefully, hovering only a few feet away.

Normally, Draco would have told her to sod off, but when faced with someone in the exact same situation, he found himself scoffing and turning to splash some water in his face, clearing his throat so he could reply.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he rasped, his voice still thick and uncoordinated from having been sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh? Do you?" the ghost floated close enough to practically pass through his nose, "I doubt that anyone would have known I was even dead other than the fact that prefect made such a big fuss trying to frame that big boy."

Draco's eyes widened as he suddenly realized who he was speaking to.

"You're Moaning Myrtle!" he said, remembering the rumors that had surfaced in his second year, "V-the Dark Lord killed you, right?"

"Oh, it was cruel!" Myrtle appeared to be gearing up for a particularly loud howl of sadness, and Draco found himself feeling very uncomfortable. He didn't want to watch a girl cry, even if she was a ghost.

"I….I have to go," he said dubiously, stuffing his hands in his pockets and sniffing loudly to clear his sinuses.

"But you will come back, won't you?" Myrtle pleaded, giant ghostly tears welling in her eyes, "We could cry together! I don't meet many others who feel the way that I do!"

"S-sure," Draco replied noncommittally, knowing that if he said anything rude, the ghost would probably go on at length about how he'd sobbed like a pathetic loser to anyone who would listen.

He pushed forward, accidentally passing through Myrtle's left shoulder in his haste to get out of the bathroom, and heard her titter excitedly about how he'd touched her as the door swung shut behind him. The contact left him feeling unnaturally cold and he shivered violently, feeling an uncomfortable prickling sensation crawl up his spine.

His face still felt puffy and ugly, but he knew that he was no longer in danger of bursting into tears anytime soon, so at least there was that. He began to climb the stairway to the seventh floor with renewed vigor. Now that his father was home, no matter how...changed...he had become, he could head the Death Eater squad and keep things under control while Draco….well….he'd think about it when the time came.

He rounded the corner to the blank expanse of wall where the Room of Requirement generally stood, and paced back and forth thinking of what he needed. The door appeared as per usual and he smirked, a ghost of that old familiar cockiness playing across his face, but just as he reached out to open the handle, the door burst open, knocking him off balance and a hand grabbed him by the chest, pulling him in.

The inside of the gigantic junk room was dark and he could barely see as the door disappeared behind him.

"Hello Draco," said a familiar voice, "Fancy seeing you here."

Draco didn't want to scream but found himself doing so instinctively, wincing measurably when his voice sounded pathetic and small in the massive room.

He was trapped.


	97. Chapter 97

**Chapter 97: Illumination**

A light flared at the end of a wand, and a face grew closer.

"Hello Draco," Luna Lovegood said softly as she pulled close to him, letting go of his shirt gently so he could lower himself from barely balancing on the tips of his toes to a more comfortable stance.

"You scared the shit out of me!" Draco replied angrily as a fierce blush burned across his face, his tone bereft of its normal contemptuous bite, but he still grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently back and forth, "How the fuck did you figure out how to get into here?"

Luna smiled, the expression on her face difficult to decipher.

"You were bound to turn up," she said simply, turning around to look out at the stacks of junk piled before them.

Draco sneered at Luna's cavalier behavior after having given him such a fright and, without thinking, he closed the distance between the two of them and grabbed her fiercely from behind.

"You shouldn't turn your back on people like me," he hissed in her ear, feeling his Marked arm start to throb pleasurably as though it were urging him on, "One might think it was an invitation to do bad things to you. Catch you unawares."

"It's not an invitation to do something when you're the one who came up with the notion all on your own," Luna replied, her voice still light even though her words were sharp and struck Draco hard.

As the words sunk in, he slipped his hands from her body and they dropped down to his sides, his head hanging down remorsefully. Had he really meant to do her harm? And for what, two seconds of terror? She hadn't threatened him. She'd just pulled him inside. She was the only person who had given one damn about him other than his mother, and he was not going to fuck this up too.

At least, he hoped that he wouldn't.

He shoved his Marked arm into the pocket of his robes, hoping that if he simply ignored the creeping, crawling feeling playing along the skin of his arm that the feeling would subside. He silently cursed himself for forgetting to see Snape for more of the salve that had been helping counteract the effects of the Schadenspiritus.

"Thank you, Draco," Luna said absentmindedly, as though he had been adjusting her tie and not threatening her at all, "Now then, let's take a look at your project, shall we? I can be a great help, especially if the item in question is infested with Bibbly-Niblets or Grouslets. But let's not get ahead of ourselves!"

"What makes you think that I need your help?" Draco scoffed as he kept a few paces behind her, trying not to let the wobble in his voice betray his earlier breakdown, "I'm just fine on my own."

"Draco, we both know that this is not true," Luna turned suddenly, moving almost unnaturally quickly until she had appeared right in front of him, and though she was short enough to only come to his shoulder, she stood on her tiptoes and stared right into his gray eyes, even as he tried to slide his gaze to the side so that she wouldn't see the pain that still lingered behind them.

"Stop it," he practically squeaked, but he didn't pull away when she took hold of his chin with her small, strong fingers and before he could say anything else, she had him caught in her curious, icy cool stare.

"Draco, tell me," she said quietly, "Why are you doing this?"

Draco felt his heart begin to beat more rapidly as he watched her lips move. It felt like she was speaking from very far away, the shapes of her words going fuzzy around the edges. His tongue felt huge and stupid in his mouth, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to say anything without choking on his words so he just kept his mouth shut, his expression pained as his eyes sought hers out again, even if it was just to see their outline in the dim light of the junk room.

Wordlessly, Luna charmed some small, floating lanterns into the air around them. The lights were not the normal white or yellow flame that had been taught to conjure up in class, but a variety that burned in an ever-shifting cycle of color, from red, to orange, to yellow, to green, to blue, to violet and then back to red again.

"The Plimpies love the change in color, and it can soothe a Nargle from twenty paces away, even if you disturb them while they're nesting," Luna said, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world, "Of course, I had to learn that the hard way."

She smiled and stuck out her tongue slightly, pantomiming having been hit on the head with her wand hand before tucking her wand back behind her ear. Her other hand slipped from Draco's chin, and he found himself leaning into her fingers momentarily, which almost caught him off balance and he stumbled slightly forward feeling profoundly foolish.

"I'll let you watch me work, but you have to promise that you won't ask me any questions that I can't answer," Draco said dismissively, pushing past her because the alternative was too upsetting.

Truth was, he didn't want her to leave for more than one reason. The first one being that he simply found himself feeling...not necessarily _happy_...but _better _when she was nearby. The second reason was not something he would admit easily, even to himself, but the giant room full of junk was incredibly creepy, especially when he was inside of it alone. He had drawn arrows on the floor with chalk the first time he'd come to the room so he wasn't worried about getting lost inside, but the stacks of junk were practically pressing against the ceiling and many looked quite precarious. In fact, he'd knocked over a couple of stacks before in a fit of thoughtless rage and the resounding crash had stirred up so much dust that he ended up coughing and sneezing for an hour after he'd left.

But sometimes he could hear..._things_...moving in the ample shadows. The sound of heavy feet. Something slithering. It could have been his overactive imagination or his mounting frustration as his efforts were in vain, but sometimes he could almost hear the whispers of someone's voice speaking in a hushed tone, as though the stacks themselves were trying to tell him something. Once, his heart had nearly stopped when he had thought that he had heard a scream. He hadn't had the courage to come back for a week after that incident.

Luna was following him as he held his wand down at the floor, following the small, white arrows that he'd set up on the sides of the path. They weren't all that noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for, but thankfully Draco knew _exactly_ where he was going.

He approached a large wooden cabinet and stopped. Whirling around when he heard a rustling noise behind him, Draco turned to see Luna moving aside a couple of broken mops and a bucket with a large crack down the side of it so that she could pull out a small, brown stool with a wobbly leg on it to sit on. She sat down, bent over with her elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hands as though expecting Draco to put on a show for her.

"I'm not a bloody stage magician!" Draco said irritably, his mouth inadvertently drawing up into a smirk when he heard Luna laugh at his outburst.

Draco worked in silence for another couple of minutes, fiddling with the doors on the Vanishing Cabinet, one of which still hung slightly askew from having been wrenched open violently by its former occupant.

"I wonder if there might be some Gingham Doxies in those stacks of moldy books over there," Luna said suddenly, "They love moldy books, you know. It's their natural habitat."

"I've been trying my best to fix this damn Vanishing Cabinet, you see," Draco said suddenly, though the eccentric girl was now twirling in a circle, as though to an invisible song, the rainbow lanterns floating around her head like a wreath of prismatic light.

"I'm listening, Draco," Luna said lightly, her eyes huge in the flickering light, making wave-like motions with her hands as she spun and twirled in the narrow walkway as though she were in an open meadow, not in a cramped room full of debris and oddments.

"I...I have to do _something_….or..._he_ is going to kill me. He'll kill my family, Luna. He'll kill everyone I care about," Draco said grimly, twisting his wand in his hands.

"What makes you think that he _won't _kill you anyway, even _if_ you do it?" Luna replied, and she turned towards him, her hands over her head like a ballerina, her feet going up en pointe, "I mean, that's what _he_ does best. Killing people, that is."

"I…." Draco went silent when the meaning of her words hit him. Suddenly, he felt like a complete fool. He _wanted_ to believe that if he just did what the Dark Lord told him to do, kept his head down until he could finally get away, that he'd be all right. But he hadn't stopped to think about what a world where the Dark Lord reigned. Where torture and murder was the daily price of doing business. Where power was based in cruelty and enslavement. Even if Voldemort gave the pure blooded families some clout over the unwashed masses in his new world order, he would never allow them to have more than scraps, lest they think they were good enough to be his equal. The nightmare would never end.

The thought was unbearable.

Draco didn't realize that he had fallen to his knees, his hands covering his face as he contemplated this possible future, until he felt a soft touch against his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Draco," Luna said wistfully, "It's hard to think when you're scared. And it doesn't help that cruelty comes naturally to you."

"I'll tell my father!" Draco said almost hysterically, "My father got out of Azkaban! If he can do that, he can do anything! He'll know what to do! If I can just fix this sodding thing, he'll be able to come here and he'll know what to do! And then...and then maybe my parents and I can escape somewhere or make a deal with Dumbledore or something and...I don't know!"

"I will help you," Luna said firmly.

"What?" Draco was taken aback. Luna's eyes were clear and serious as she knelt down facing him.

"You know, _before_, when you were doing something bad, I didn't want to help you, but you figured it on your own, and you came up with a better idea. I'm very impressed with you," she said, as though it was obvious.

"Wha-? But how do you know I'm not just lying or something to get you to help me?" Draco said churlishly.

"Are you?" Luna asked, an amused smile playing across her face.

"No," Draco sulked, "But I could have. If I wanted to, that is."

Luna smiled and before Draco could react, she'd thrown her arms around him, knocking the wind out of him. The rainbow lanterns tilted and whirled into a wider orbit, circling around both of them and bathing them in flickering multicolored light.

"I'm so happy!" she said cryptically into his ear, "Maybe we can change what's to come!"

"What are you talking about?" Draco wheezed as he caught his breath.

Luna pulled back slightly, her face aligning with his, and he could see that her breath had quickened just as his had. Her eyes were looking into his, but she'd suddenly glance down at his lips and suddenly he felt a sharp urge to do something crazy, something that, had they not been on the dirty floor of the cluttered junk room incarnation of the Room of Requirement in the semi-dark, he would have dismissed completely as idle fancy.

"What-" he began, and some mad impulse made him reach out and touch Luna's cheek gently.

Both of their eyes went wide and neither of them blinked for a long moment.

He didn't know which one of them closed the distance between their noses, their lips. For a moment, his mind went totally blank. But then he found himself kissing the eccentric Ravenclaw girl, first pressing firmly against her lips and then deeper still as he tasted her for the first time-strawberries and peppers-_and god it was amazing_.

"Mhhhmmmm," he moaned mindlessly, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

_But it feels so good. Fuck self-control. _

As though to support his little theory, the little chuckle in the back of Luna's throat wasn't cruel and he found himself wrapping his arms around her as she placed her hands under his jaw as though she was supporting his head.

And even though he could feel himself getting increasingly sore from the cold, dirty floor, at that moment there was no other place that he would rather be.


	98. Chapter 98

**Chapter 98: Fixing Lav Lav**

Hermione felt as though she had butterflies in her stomach all that morning, the way she always did when a test loomed in the near future. Her friends always dismissed her pre-test jitters as though they were groundless, but none of them knew that, before starting out at Hogwarts, Hermione had the unfortunate problem of blanking out during tests from the sheer anxiety of wanting to answer each question perfectly. She had been particularly abysmal at typing, a class that she had been forced to take in year four at her muggle school, and she still felt that tight knot of anxiety build in her chest when she thought of the typing test where she hadn't been able to look at her hands and her fingers slipped out of the home position on the keyboard, leading her to miss all but one word on the test. It had been her first failing grade ever, and she had dissolved into tears for an hour after the teacher had handed the results back.

From that day forward, she had begun studying class material as though possessed. Only when she had created an effortless mental image of the material did she finally find herself breaking free of the terrifying effects of her test anxiety, and the habit had persisted ever since.

But this wasn't just a question of putting ink to parchment. Hermione had never been poor at the practical application of magical knowledge, but this was often more due to regular practice than anything else. But Apparation was very different in that aspect. First of all, she couldn't practice outside of class due to the wards on the school grounds that prevented it. And she couldn't practice outside of the class sessions in Hogsmeade because she was legally prohibited to do it on her own until she passed the test, which would render the reason for practice a moot point.

And then there was the issue of Splinching. Not only did it appear to be horribly painful (if watching Susan's leg be detached from her body at the first lesson had been any indication), but Hermione was terrified that she would Splinch herself and need treatment in the hospital wing, in which case, it would be only a matter of minutes before Madam Pomfrey would figure out her secret pregnancy, and everything would come crashing down upon her.

So, with the absence of opportunities to practice as often as she wanted to, Hermione had taken the "Three D's" thoroughly to heart. She had even checked out a book on types of magical meditation from the Eastern Magic section of the library, and began to memorize the techniques, engaging in various types of tantric breathing and stretches several times a day. They had the dual benefit of not only helping her to perform brilliantly in Apparition class and boosting her magical focus, but also seemed to lessen her increasing number of aches and pains as well as helping to relax her frazzled mind as well.

In fact, Ginny and Parvati were so impressed by the refreshing effects of Hermione's routine, that they both began to do the exercises with her in the mornings and evenings in their dorm. At first, Lavender accused Parvati of being a traitor, as she was still blaming Hermione for Ron avoiding her, but eventually, she too found herself practicing with them after seeing Parvati improve in her studies, though she still refused to speak with Hermione outside of a couple simple, curt statements in their dorms.

So, while it came as no surprise to anyone that Hermione passed her test on the first try, she breathed a sigh of profound relief when it was over. She didn't even notice that a black-haired figure was hiding silently in the shadows as she took her test, ready to whisk her away on the pretense of being able to get a student quickly to the infirmary with minimal fuss. Severus let out a deep exhalation of relief when the instructor had pronounced Hermione to be his best student in years and turned back into the shadows of the pathway leading back to the school, not realizing that a sharp pair of brown eyes were watching his receding form until he had faded into the gloomy shade of the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione's first instinct had been to run to him and….she wasn't sure what she would do next. Severus was not the sort of person who enjoyed jumping and excitement, and even if she were to reach him in time, the possibility of being seen would probably not bode well for either of them. Though he was practically invisible where he had been standing, Hermione had felt his eyes upon her at once like a physical force. She didn't have the strength to look up until she felt his gaze break away from her, and even then, she'd only seen a glimpse of him before he had disappeared. The ache in her heart had been palpable, but her downcast expression did help when Ron failed to pass his test due to having splinched part of his eyebrow.

And when Harry had _finally_ taken the Felix Felicis, she found herself thrust into a three way argument with an absolutely livid Lavender Brown. Hermione didn't understand why Lavender was so upset. After all, she had helped Lavender with the potion and…._wait….the potion._

_How could I be such an idiot?!_

Hermione broke away from Ron and Lavender as though she'd been bitten in the backside and raced up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. She grabbed the book she'd used to brew Lavender's potion and leafed through the page hurriedly until she got to the correct page and her face went pale as she read.

Under the dosage instructions, in red ink, a warning was posted.

_Warning! Potion effects become more pronounced the longer this potion is aged. Only dose patients with the recommended draught through the three month mark unless this potion is being used to hearten soldiers due for battle. In this case, a six month aging process will render one with such steely resolve that nothing, not even certain death, will keep them from their aim. The only known counter-agent is a bezoar, which must be placed on the forehead of the affected wizard or witch for an entire night to leech the properties from the body._

Hermione gasped. She had kept three bezoars in her bag ever since Ron had been poisoned. Though they were expensive and uncommon, she could not justify cost as a barrier to possibly saving someone's life. She was not confident that whomever had poisoned Ron would not strike again, and if it affected more than one person, she did not wish to choose who would live and who would die.

She used her wand to retrieve a bezoar from her beaded handbag, which she still kept inside of her school bag, and looked at it dubiously. It seemed strange that such a thing would be able to help Lavender, but Hermione was tired of the weird looks and the accusations, and she was sure that Ron would be too. No sooner had she grasped the kidney-shaped stone in her hand, then Lavender burst through the door, her face turning red with frustration.

"THERE YOU ARE, GRANGER!" she bellowed, her hands balled into fists.

"I'm sorry about this, Lavender," Hermione said, raising her wand, and the other girl looked puzzled for a second before collapsing on the floor, having been silently Stupefied. Hermione levitated the prone girl into the air and placed her in her bed, casting a couple extra charms to keep Lavender from leaving, and then pouring a vial of Dreamless Sleep down the girl's throat for good measure. Finally, she placed the little stone on Lavender's forehead, and marveled as the little stone began to turn a strange, muddy red color as it began to work. Finally, she tucked Lavender's wand in the dresser next to her bed and left a note telling Lavender where it was for the following morning. Finally, she shut the drapes around Lavender's bed so that she would not be disturbed.

Hermione could have kissed her Advanced Potions book, but she simultaneously wanted to smack herself in the head for her negligence.

Next, she scoured through Lavender's trunk until she found the potion, which still appeared to have three or four doses left in it, and Vanished it immediately. Lavender would remember her behavior under the influence and she _had_ always been a bit pompous and dramatic, but Hermione knew that it had been amplified by _her _stupid potion, and in her fixation on her own issues, she had practically driven Lavender to drastic action through negligence.

Her task taken care of, Hermione was about to leave the dorm for the common room when Ginny burst in the door, her face red as though she were about to scream in anger or break into tears.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Hermione asked coolly as though she were trying to make a joke, though her heart was in her throat when she remembered the last time Ginny had been so upset, "Did Lavender kill Ron or something?"

"It's just…" Ginny shook her head, "I...broke up with Dean. He….he's just….UGH!"

She shook her hands in emphasis and went right for the dorm bathroom, shutting the door and latching it closed.

Hermione was glad that the red-haired girl had been in such a hurry to run to the bathroom and had not noticed the look of sheer relief that had washed over Hermione's face. With all of this excitement, Hermione knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep at all, and she grabbed her bag, heading from her room with her wand in the folds of her robes.

"Where are you going?" Ron said sulkily to her as she stormed down the stairs.

He was sitting with Dean and Seamus, and both Ron and Dean appeared to have identical scowls on their faces, for apparently identical reasons.

"If you must know, I'm going to the library. Dumbledore gave me this all-access pass, you know," Hermione replied, sounding more snotty than she had intended, "I need to do some more research, especially if Harry is successful tonight, which he probably will be. There's still so much I need to know if I want to be useful so that we can bring down that big, stupid, evil, fat-headed…..well, _you know_!"

She stomped her foot and turned around in a huff. She thought she heard Ron turn to Dean and say something about "scary when she's mad" but she figured that it would serve Ron right to be on the receiving end of Lavender's wrath as long as it wasn't anything that would land him in a hospital bed.

_He may very well be referring to me, though...well he damn well ought to be scared!_

Hermione found herself smiling somewhat cruelly at the thought of Ron cowering in front of her. He had certainly begged and bowed and scraped to get her to help him on his homework, but really, he was utterly hopeless. While she certainly cared about him dearly as a person, she found her contempt for his utter lack of ambition or willingness to work hard at any subject whatsoever growing more pronounced each year.

She ignored the Fat Lady's irritated admonitions about leaving after curfew and stormed down the stairs so quickly that, when she rounded a corner and found herself being yanked into some sort of recessed alcove, she barely had time to squeak in fear before she found herself pulled into darkness.


	99. Chapter 99

**Chapter 99: Almost, but Not Quite**

A familiar hand had covered her mouth, and only when she detected the familiar scent of his robes as they enveloped her did she realize who had grabbed her. Almost as though she were relying on pure instinct, Hermione found herself relaxing instantly.

"Shh," Severus whispered into her ear, his arm around her chest, hugging her from behind as he wrapped his robes around her more tightly, "Mrs. Norris will be by shortly."

Sure enough, within a few minutes, Mrs. Norris padded by softly, not giving their alcove even a cursory glance. Hermione felt her heart beating faster, but it had nothing to do with possibly being caught. She could feel his warmth pressing firmly against her back and she could feel her body heat increasing in turn.

When the coast was clear, Hermione felt his grasp relax and she turned around in his arms so she could look up at him. It was dark, and her eyes were not yet fully acclimated to the gloom, but she could feel his hair tickling her cheeks as he bent down to kiss her and she felt her cheeks begin to burn as one kiss turned into many, many more.

"You idiot," he said breathlessly when he finally broke away from her lips, "Are you _trying _to get caught out after curfew? Do you really wish to receive detention so badly?"

"Only if I can get detention with you," Hermione replied softly, running her fingers across the dim outline of his lips gently and wishing that it was possible to do more, "No, of course I wasn't _trying_ to get caught. I was on my way to the library. Dumbledore gave me this pass, you see."

"I am aware that Dumbledore has...made accommodations for you," he replied testily, seeming more and more like his old sourpuss self than usual, "But that does not mean you get to traipse up and down the halls at any time you damn well please."

"What's wrong?" Hermione said slowly, "You seem...upset...tonight."

"I…." he trailed off, caressing her cheek with his rough palm for a moment until he finally seemed able to continue, "I talked with Dumbledore again tonight. More like shouted, to be perfectly honest. And...there is something. Something he wants me to do. But I...I fear it will destroy me. That I will lose what is left of my soul if I do it. That I will lose everything...even you. Our…_family_."

"There is nothing you can do that will make me hate you," Hermione said fiercely, "So just stop thinking that every little thing is going to make me denounce you and run off!"

She could feel him shift uncomfortably for a moment, as though he was debating whether or not to say any more. Finally, he spoke, but he looked incredibly ashamed, as though by saying it, he was making it true.

"He wants me to kill someone," Severus said quietly, and Hermione covered her mouth, her eyes going wide.

"Who?" she breathed quietly.

"I have already told you far more than I should," he said, and he was resting his forehead against hers, his hands trembling slightly as he held her.

Hermione had trouble thinking that Dumbledore was capable of soliciting murder, though, when she thought back to that night by Hagrid's hut, she had to admit that she didn't really know the real Dumbledore at all, not really. The thought that Dumbledore was expecting Severus to turn into an assassin was shocking, but not nearly as shocking as Hermione would have found it a year before.

"I have been able to avoid many of the more _unpleasant _things that one must do as a follower of the Dark Lord simply because I mostly worked with potions for the Death Eaters and was such a low-level member before...well, _before_...but to think that I have largely avoided directly taking life only to have to do so while working for the so-called side of good…." he trailed off, and she could feel the slight tremors in his hands extending to his arms as well.

"I'm here," she said, standing up on her tiptoes so that her lips brushed against his ear as he burrowed his face into her shoulder, breathing in her scent in uneven, hurried breaths.

With one hand, she felt for the front of his jacket and deftly undid all of the buttons at his neckline, loosening the tight fabric as well as the layer underneath until they had turned down slightly, smiling as he let her do so without any resistance. Gently, she slid a hand under his hair so that it slid back, baring his neck, bringing her lips to the sensitive skin that lay behind his ear, and trailing down as he held back something in his throat that sounded like a barely controlled whimper, which only encouraged her descent. She ran her lips against the different types of skin, from the soft lines of scar tissue to the unmarred places that gave her a slight resistance as she continued around to his throat, gently kissing the Adam's apple that lay there, which was probably more prominent than it ought to be due to his emaciated stature.

"When I am with you, I find myself unable to think of anything else," he managed, speaking thickly, "Exactly what have I done to deserve someone like you in my life?"

"That's easy," she replied softly, running her fingers over the sensitive places on his neck that were now slightly moist from her attentions, "I hate to break it to you, but you don't deserve me."

Severus stiffened instantly as though she had struck him, and Hermione continued hastily, trying to explain what she meant, "No! That's not what I meant! I mean, no one _deserves_ anything. I choose to be with you because I love you more than anyone in my life. You, ostensibly, choose to be with me because you feel the same, right? I mean, maybe it's just because I don't put any stock in divination, but I honestly don't think that there's any bigger meaning to it than that. We're free agents. We can make what we want of our lives. That's why I'm not prepared to write anyone off, even if they make mistakes, as long as they are willing to change and follow through with their word."

"_Please_," his voice was barely a whisper as she stroked his hair, her lips kissing down the side his jawline softly, "Please, promise-"

Without warning, Severus cut off what he was saying and shoved Hermione behind him so that she was pressed up against the far wall of the alcove, which felt grimy from years of obvious neglect. Abruptly, he shot up to his full height, holding his arms out slightly as though he were spreading dark wings so that he looked somewhat like the derisive nickname that likened him to a bat.

"Who is that in there? It's after curfew and I will be forced to assign detention and take points if you're sneaking around, regardless of whether or not you're in my house!" A familiar stern voice called out.

Shielding Hermione with his robes, Severus stepped out intimidatingly into the hall.

"Good evening, Minerva," he said, his voice even and betraying absolutely no emotion as Hermione shrank against the far wall, all thoughts of cobwebs and grime forgotten in her terror at being caught together with Severus, especially by her Head of House, who not only had a sharp tongue but a sharp eye as well.

"Severus?!" Minerva fumed, "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times- as much as you love catching students from my House and taking points from Gryffindor, I assure you that I am capable enough to dole out punishment after hours! Perhaps you ought to attend to your own House in the dungeons where you belong!"

"And whose house is famous for little lost cubs with lightning shaped scars scampering about on the regular, hmmm?" he replied scathingly, "Dumbledore has given me instructions and I will not allow your love of polishing the House Cup to blind you from keeping Potter from causing trouble or punishing him appropriately when he eventually gets up to it anyway, especially with the current stakes involved. Do I make myself clear?"

"You can't hide behind Albus for the rest of your life, Severus. One of these days, he'll be gone and you'll have to learn some manners or face getting sacked. I should say that not every headmaster would be amenable to your atrocious demeanor," Minerva replied, glaring over the top of her glasses, "But I have no time to bicker with you in these cold hallways all night. I'll catch my death. Though I suppose you'd love to see that."

Without another word, Minerva gathered her tartan shawl more tightly around her shoulders and stormed up the stairs rigidly, her chin so sharply pointed upward that she might have stabbed the Fat Lady with it, had the painting not swung open quickly without a word uttered by either of them.

Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief and gulped in deep breaths of fresh air. She had been holding her breath to the point of bursting, not daring to breathe lest McGonagall hear it.

Severus turned around and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation as he made his way back to Hermione. It was a testament to how much he trusted her to allow her to see the pained expression in place of his normally stoic mask. Her eyes were now fully adjusted to the gloom, so she could also see the amused half-smile turn up his lips on one side, rendering his entire face rife with conflicting emotion.

"You did well. I would expect nothing less of the brightest witch in the whole of the wizarding world," he said quietly, reaching over and picking something off her shoulder then pinching it firmly between his slim fingers, "Now, let me clean you off and then straight back up to bed once we have given the old tartan harridan a head start."

Hermione didn't want to laugh at his insulting nickname for one of her favorite professors, but she still ended up snorting loudly with amusement.

"And please refrain from laughing," he continued, the lines softening in his face and his tone not matching the severity of his words, "It makes me forget how hopeless and miserable I ought to be."

"Well, in that case…" Hermione said mischievously, and she began making exaggerated laughing noises that were so loud that Severus practically tackled her, covering her mouth even as she kept trying to move around and laugh again.

"Come here, you!" he roared playfully as he spun her around to face him, and she grinned triumphantly at how his face had seemed to change completely from his customary somber, haggard visage, almost as though he were transforming into someone who he should have been allowed to be in the first place, had things only been different. A change made possible without even a hint of magic.

_Well, not traditional magic, anyway._

"I will _never _apologise for making you happy," she said in mock defiance.

"I suppose I shall have to endure it...that is, as long as you do not mind me complaining about it _endlessly_," he replied sardonically, his voice lowering as he drew close to her, and the corners of his eyes crinkled upward as his eyes grew intense.

"Can we?" Hermione whispered, as he drew his lips close to hers, "Can we go..._anywhere_?"

"You know that we both have classes tomorrow. Your absence would be very obvious," he said, but his expression was torn, and she could tell that he didn't want to tell her to go.

"Let's stay here awhile, then?" she pleaded, her eyes searching his for confirmation.

Severus merely smiled that gentle, shy way that he only did when she was close by and kissed her again and again and again.

There were no more questions in the ensuing silence as both of them tried to lengthen their furtive time together for as long as they could get away with it.

* * *

**Author's Note****: SURPRISE! I'm blindsiding you with a note at the end of the chapter! I'm a sneaky one, aren't I? Anyway, so because this is Chapter 99, I'm going to give you three choices, dear readers, and whichever option wins out will be the subject of Chapter 100 (THE BIG CENTENNIAL).**

**Choice 1: More sexytimes in either the alcove or….somewhere else (give me ideas, ehehehe)?**

**Choice 2: More plot and a possible time skip.**

**Choice 3: Another Draco/Luna POV chapter.**

**YOU DECIDE!**

**I just want to thank all of you for reading so far- I know it's been quite a long ride and it's not quite yet over. I am blown away by the responses and the appreciation that I have received. 3**

**PPS: If you have any questions for the author (moi!), I'd be happy to answer them. :D**


	100. Chapter 100

**Author's Note: Happy Chapter 100! Yay! So I took heed of your suggestions and have decided to go with an extra long chapter filled with drama and longing and maybe just a bit of sex (near the end ;) just FYI ) for those of you who like that sort of thing! **

**In personal news, I am slowly recovering from a bout of horrible stomach flu, so I apologize for the wait. But I promise you, it will be worth it!**

**As always, thank you for your support- it motivates me to keep writing every single day and I find myself enjoying my story more and more when I know that others are as invested in this story as I am!**

* * *

**Chapter 100: More or Less**

Hermione was extremely glad that she had the reputation of resident brainiac of Gryffindor. Not only did sneaking off to the library or to see one of her teachers about classwork or a project seem both boring and compelling reasons for her absence, but with her best friends obsessed with Quidditch, Hermione found herself with a glut of free time, free time that she normally would have filled with extra credit and light reading, but instead had dedicated to figuring out how to best prepare for various battle situations in what was sure to escalate at some point to all-out war. The thing that had most frustrated her was that she hadn't seen Severus alone for more than five minutes in the past couple of weeks after that night in the alcove near Gryffindor tower.

Sure, she had gone to his mandatory open door office hours once to ask questions on a strictly academic level, and both of them, regardless of how strongly they felt about one another outside of their public roles had no problems being professional when they needed to be. The only hint that there was anything more going on between them manifested in Hermione brushing her hand lightly against his when she was gathering up her parchment from his desk. They shared a look for several minutes, both of them subconsciously leaning in towards one another only slightly, but neither said more, and to any outside observer it would have appeared as though they were simply glaring defiantly at one another.

While meaningful looks and glances in the hallways were still most welcome, it still irked Hermione to no end that she could not be more overt about her affection, even though logically she was all too aware of the potential consequences. Part of her was fairly certain that it had to do with all the pregnancy hormones. She'd read somewhere that growing a tiny human in one's body was often so overwhelming that they made women feel increasingly vulnerable and emotional as they got closer to the end.

_No shit. I'd like to see men try to do all of this and maintain their quality of work, mandatory social engagements and, oh yeah, fight the most evil and powerful wizard in history._

In fact, as far as Hermione was concerned, it was almost as though he was _avoiding her_, even though she couldn't prove anything. And it didn't help that Lavender was still giving her the cold shoulder and blaming Hermione for the entire Ron debacle. Parvati was somewhat sympathetic, but she stood by her best friend whenever they were together, so it was only due to Parvati's close proximity at the study desks in the library one day that Hermione had learned that Lavender was seriously broken hearted over him and almost desperate enough to try slipping Ron a love potion to get him back. It seems that Lavender was under the impression that Ron had only liked her because she was available. Hermione could understand how much that could hurt, and she held her tongue even when Lavender was saying unkind things about her permanent case of bed head.

To be seen as merely a stand-in or a warm pair of lips...Hermione found her heart throb with sympathy. But Ron wasn't doing it out of malice, more like ignorance of anything more subtle than a punch in the face. And it was hard to be mad at him, especially with the poisoning he had only recently fully recovered from and the fact that he looked happier than he had in weeks.

Ron had this way about him where, when he was happy, it just kind of became this infectious thing that burst outward from him and made everyone nearby feel at ease. Even though he would never play Quidditch professionally, it made sense that he would work well on the team as long as he could manage his nerves, and Harry seemed so much happier to have his best friend back, even though Hermione couldn't help but notice how her bespectacled friend looked at Ginny.

He hadn't said anything to completely confirm her suspicions, but after having spent so much time deciphering subtle body language with Severus (who was a master at it, to her eternal chagrin), in relation to _that_, Harry might as well have been shouting it off the top of the Astronomy Tower using a voice amplification charm. It was definitely cute to watch the slow internal debate rage behind that messy-haired head of his, but it only reminded Hermione of her own problems and she found herself wondering at odd hours where Severus was and what he was doing...and if he missed her the same way that she missed him.

* * *

At that moment, Severus was not missing Hermione, but that was mainly because he had just been shocked awake out of a dead sleep on the couch in his library with his Mark burning him as though it were about to catch fire. He stifled a groan and rubbed his arm over his sleeve, though it did little to stop the pain. He was grabbing his traveling cloak when he heard a loud irregular knocking against the doors to his offices and when he finally cracked open the door, a pale Draco practically collapsed through the gap in the doorway.

The boy was holding his arm in a cold sweat, his teeth set rigidly together as though he were experiencing lockjaw. Draco just looked pitifully up at Severus as a tiny whimpering sound rose in his throat and it was obvious that the pain was unbearable.

"Quietly now," Severus said softly, his voice betraying no emotion as he grabbed Draco by the other arm and led him quickly down the hall and up the stairs towards the first floor entrance. They passed Filch, who gave Draco the stink eye, but upon seeing the angry looking professor leading him sternly along, the caretaker seemed to think better on it, and disappeared around a corner, muttering about how at least he could take solace in the fact that Professor Snape would have something highly unpleasant for students to do for being up after curfew.

_If only he knew._

Severus practically had to drag an almost limp Draco to the gates of Hogwarts so that he could Apparate them both and by then, the burning in his own arm had reached a fever pitch.

He resisted the urge to swear as the boy vomited on his shoes after they reached their destination by the gates of Malfoy Manor. Luckily, though, the terrible burning had gone when they had Apparated, which was an instant relief. Of course, it didn't help that it was late at night and the Dark Lord rarely called for Severus, let alone Draco during the school year. He had a bad feeling about it, but then again, any time that he had to be in the Dark Lord's presence gave him a bad feeling and for good reason.

They hurried in through the gates and up to the house. The door swung open and they made their way to the drawing room, which was lit by a roaring fire that somehow seemed to offer no warmth as the tall, snake-like man who stood alone looking into the flames turned and fixed his red eyed gaze upon them both as they entered.

"Ah. Severus. Draco. Glad to see that you two have finally arrived," Voldemort hissed, seeming even more snakelike than usual in the flickering light.

"My Lord," Severus bowed down low and forced Draco's head down with his hand.

"M...My Lord," Draco quivered on the floor, looking more like he was about to faint than anything. He still remembered the rounds of Crucio that Voldemort had been sure to give him before he'd left at the end of the winter break, and his body reacted instinctively to the presence of the evil man before him. It was a miracle that he had avoided pissing all over himself in terror.

"Do sit down," Voldemort said in his cool, high voice, picking up a small glass of red liquid in a wine glass and bringing it to his lips.

"Thank you, My Lord," Severus said, and pulled Draco up into one of the chairs at the table to their right.

"I am sure that you have heard the good news then," Voldemort began, stopping in front of Draco's seat, and Severus found himself looking askance at the boy, whose face had somehow gotten even more bereft of any color and his eyes strained to go wider with terror.

"D….dad?" Draco finally managed.

"Ah! It _can_ speak!" Voldemort said, clasping his hands together and chuckling in a very nasty manner, "Yes indeed, your father has been broken out of Azkaban only a few weeks ago. Azkaban...tsk tsk tsk...such a _nasty_ place. It would never do for my _most faithful servant_ to be in such a _dreadful_ local and so far from his _beloved master_! But certainly, no one else needs to know our little secret, right Draco? Those fools at the Ministry only send out their moronic tally-takers once every quarter anyway and a few well-placed Galleons can buy quite a lot of silence, wouldn't you say? In fact, as far as your father is concerned, _he doesn't even exist in the world_ until he is discovered to be missing. How delightful! But that is neither here nor there. I would bet that you would like to see him, _now wouldn't you, Draco_? Come on, then, Narcissa, bring him in!"

Voldemort clapped as though he were calling for a small dog. The door creaked open and a very red-eyed Narcissa entered slowly, leading a very disheveled-looking Lucius by the hand as though they were children trying to pass through an evil forest at night. The once proud man looked terrible, his face unshaven and covered in grime, his eyes unfocused with a far away, glazed expression as though his mind were somewhere else entirely and his hair tangled into a ratty snarl behind his head. He was wearing what looked like a floor-length white linen nightgown and he shuffled along behind Narcissa as though she were leading a balloon and not a man behind her.

"My Lord," Narcissa said, curtseying and averting her eyes.

She was, however, unable to keep her eyes from darting over to her son, and a look of terror washed over her features causing her face to contort in a manner that made her look as though she were about to scream. With great effort, she regained her composure and stared desperately at the pattern on the carpet at Voldemort's feet.

"Look, Draco," Voldemort said softly, then, when Draco seemed unresponsive, he shouted, "LOOK! Here's your _precious father_, Draco! Look how far he's fallen for his folly! I wouldn't be surprised if your mother has to change him regularly now that his brains have been scrambled by the dementors. What do you think, hmmmm?"

"I...I don't know, sir," Draco mumbled, his face frozen in fear.

"That's right. You _don't _know. _None _of you know. And do you know why, little Draco?" Voldemort sneered condescendingly, "Because all of you are _**idiots**_, that's why, compared to my staggering intellect. Every single one of you is inferior to me, for I am the one who has come closest to immortality. And in my infinite wisdom, I cannot for the life of me figure out why all of you have so much trouble following even _the simplest directions!_"

Voldemort turned and pointed his wand at Lucius. The bedraggled man's eyes went all dreamy and he walked over towards Voldemort as though he were a puppet on strings.

"Draco, don't you think that your father ought to clean up in the presence of his Lord?" Voldemort jeered, pulling down a large knife from one of the glass display cases near the far wall, "In fact, in my infinite wisdom and mercy, I think I will help him."

Everyone froze as Voldemort brought the knife down at an angle across the man's face and scraped away the man's stubbly beard quickly and effortlessly. Then he used the knife to cut away the snarls of hair until all that was left was a ragged mop that hung unevenly to the the elder Malfoy's shoulders.

"There, much better. There's no telling how easily he might have cut his _poor, pure blooded throat_ had he tried to do it himself," Voldemort said maliciously, releasing Lucius from the _Imperius_ curse and allowing Narcissa to lead her husband back to the table.

"Thank you, my Lord," Narcissa said, bowing again.

"Sometimes, if you want something done, you have to do it yourself," Voldemort replied nastily, "Now, then, I want to talk to your son. Draco. You still have not finished your mission. Do you want me to send your father, in the state he is currently, to do your duty for you?"

Draco looked wildly over at his father, whose eyes only looked slightly more focused without the _Imperius_ curse in effect.

"No, sir," he said quietly, hanging his head.

"Draco, Draco _look at me_," Voldemort crooned, his voice softer than before, "I am a reasonable man. I have clear expectations and have already explained in detail what I wish to have done. It is only because of your own incompetence that I find myself waiting endlessly to retrieve what is mine! As long as I am unable to complete the prophecy, I cannot truly gain the immortality I seek. And if I can't live forever, that is bound to make me incredibly cross. And if I am _forced _to become cross, I shall make certain that you and your family suffer for it."

A small, strangled sob escaped Narcissa's lips, and she looked as though she was biting her lip to keep from breaking down completely. Draco's mouth was open in a silent scream. Severus looked over at her dispassionately, but in his head, he was screaming too.

_No! I cannot let us all die here tonight! It is too soon!_

"I will make a promise to you tonight, Draco," Voldemort continued patronizingly, "And I expect Severus here to make sure to see it through, isn't that right, Severus?"

The man in black nodded curtly, and glared at Draco as though in solidarity with his master, though in actuality nothing could have been further from the truth.

"I promise," Voldemort said cruelly, "That if Dumbledore is not dead by June, you will enjoy the distinct pleasure of watching your parents be tortured and murdered in front of you. If you're _really_ lucky, maybe I'll Imperio you so that you can do the honors yourself!"

Draco squirmed and looked at his parents, sharing a wide-eyed glance with his mother, who shook her head so slightly that the only other person who noticed was Severus.

"And," Voldemort continued, walking up behind Draco's chair and curling his long, bony fingers over the back of the chair, bending until his face was level with the boy's ear, "I _also_ promise, Draco, that when _you_ die, that you will beg for it."

"As always, your motivational speaking never fail to impress," Severus finally said, doing his best to sound impressed with the homicidal maniac who had returned to the fire and picked up his wine glass once more.

"I know that you don't have wine glasses," Voldemort said, as though the complement had fallen on deaf ears, "But I propose a toast. To Draco! May he actually prove that not every Malfoy is a total fuck-up and keep his family from being horribly murdered due to his own incompetence!"

Voldemort tipped his head back and swallowed the rest of the red liquid, throwing the glass into the fire violently once it was empty. Everyone flinched at the sound of the glass shattering against stone.

"Get out of my sight," he muttered, sitting down next to the fire, and no one needed to be told twice.

Once out in the hall, Lucius seemed to gain more awareness than before, and he smiled brokenly at his son.

"I know you can do it, Draco! I know you'll be able to!" he said excitedly as he clutched his son's hands, and Draco reeled back at his father's strange, overly eager demeanor and the sour hint of bile in his father's breath.

"Now, Lucius, don't get too excited," Narcissa said gently, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"We should return to Hogwarts before we are missed. Draco has classes tomorrow," Severus said firmly.

"I know that, but…" Narcissa went to her son and bent down to look into his eyes and began stroking the sides of his face with her hands in an intimately maternal manner that made Severus turn his head with discomfort, "Shhh, don't cry baby, it's not much longer. We're going to get through this, ok? We're going to be ok. I can always grow back your father's hair. It will be like before. I promise you. We're going to be fine."

Draco didn't even flinch or say anything snarky as his mother babied him and he practically collapsed into her when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his head. His eyes glittered with tears as they filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks silently. His body was still so tight with tension that he couldn't even sob.

After a long moment, Severus put his hand on Narcissa's shoulder.

"We must go," he said firmly, and Narcissa nodded, reluctantly letting go of Draco.

"Take care of my boy," she said, her voice wavering with emotion, "Remember what you promised me."

"I would not dream of anything else," Severus replied, nodding at Lucius, (who had wandered a bit down the hall and was poking one of the paintings of his scowling ancestors), and without another word he pulled Draco by the arm back through the front doors and out into the night.

Severus did not breathe easily until Draco had been dumped unceremoniously in the Slytherin common room and he had returned to his offices. He scrubbed and scrubbed his body until it was raw and red, but it did not lessen the feeling of disgust he felt inside.

* * *

In the weeks leading up to the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor Quidditch match, Hermione busied herself so much with her search for more information on Dark objects and helpful spells, especially after Harry has returned from Dumbledore's office with more information on what a Horcrux actually was (which, to her smug satisfaction, was actually not all that far off from her educated guesswork, though something about the idea of Voldemort murdering someone to make the horrible objects gave her a strange sense of déjà vu) and the fact that they were dealing with Horcruxes (plural), that she only found herself dwelling obsessively upon her feelings of loneliness when she was trying to get comfortable in her cold, narrow dorm bed at night. Even though she found the house on Spinner's End to be nothing like what she would consider "home," she found herself remembering how comfortable she had felt lying next to Severus and the blissful feeling she felt when he had draped his arm over her protectively, and she found herself wishing that the school year was over already so that she didn't have to hide anymore.

Hermione had written down a list of the Horcruxes that had been destroyed as well as the possible hints for the items that were left, even though Harry had protested that he would be able to remember them just fine. Hermione had snapped back that Harry has said the same thing about their Defense Against the Dark Arts test the previous Tuesday, but he had still blanked on the questions about methods for taking control of a dark wizard's Rock Golem. Even though part of her hoped that Dumbledore would be able to take care of at least some of the more dangerous parts, Hermione still knew that there was sure to be danger ahead of them, and she was not willing to have Harry forgetting important things under pressure.

_If I can help us avoid getting killed, then it it will be well worth having those two grouse about my compulsive need to take notes. Lord knows, I'm the only one who ever does. _

She was pulled from her thoughts by a familiar warmth at her chest. Pulling the bead out from her shirt, she looked around to check to see if the coast was clear and then pulled her wand to read the message in golden light.

_Seventh Floor. _

Hermione gulped and looked over at her book bag. How was she going to head up there with classes done for the day? She would have to use the pretense of visiting a teacher during office hours if she wanted to get up there with minimal questions. And with a sudden look of realization, she knew exactly who she would use.

Professor Vector's temporary office was on the seventh floor near the stairs, as there had been a terrible pungent fungal growth spreading over the far wall in her usual office once the rains had started and Professor Sprout had delightedly pronounced the fungus to be a highly rare species with many useful magical properties, going so far as to get Dumbledore's approval to cultivate it until it could be safely removed alive and moved to one of her greenhouses. Professor Vector had disliked having to move, but Dumbledore had made it so that her new office not only had a magnificent view, but that it had been furnished with a number of sliding chalkboards for her to work on her own private equations. This had minimized the grumbling, and so far, Hermione had only seen the office once since the move had been made, and she knew with certainty that it would be a cold day in hell when either Harry or Ron would willingly ask questions during office hours for any of their classes.

Hermione knew that Harry was obsessed with getting into the Room of Requirement while Draco was in there, and it wouldn't do to get caught red handed going into the Room of Requirement with Harry's most hated professor, so she quickly fabricated an excuse, hoping that rushing out through the common room and giving a hurried explanation would cover her poor lying skills.

Neither Ron nor Harry gave any indication that they sensed anything amiss, though if they had seen the blush burning on her cheeks as she imagined seeing Severus again after what had seemed like ages, they would probably have wondered if she was coming down with a cold or something.

Hermione found herself on the seventh floor before she knew it. The hallway near the blank wall where the Room of Requirement generally appeared when summoned was utterly absent of anyone, and a quick glance at Professor Vector's closed door gave her courage to pace back and forth in front of the wall.

_I want to see the one I love. I want to see the one I love. I want to see the one I love._

She walked back and forth several times, hoping desperately that it would work, as she had not been given any other instruction for entering, and she was not certain that Severus would receive any of her messages in the strange room.

When she looked at the wall, it was still blank, and despair filled her. So she tried another tack.

_I want to see Severus. I want to see Severus. I want to see Severus._

Still nothing. Hermione was becoming frustrated, and she found herself huffing irritably, especially since she had not received any instructions when he could have easily told her.

_That stupid ornery man! I could just throttle him if I could only get into this damnable room!_

Hermione's eyes widened as the door materialized in front of her without so much as a sound.

"Git," she muttered as the door opened and a long black sleeved hand reached out to take hers.

"A good afternoon to you too," Severus replied, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled her close to him.

"Don't think that you're free and clear just because I finally figured out your idiotic requirement," Hermione huffed irritably, as the door disappeared behind them.

"And is it not a testament to your unfailingly tenacious nature and brilliant intellect that allowed you to enter easily after, what, four, five tries?" Severus said amusedly, one of his fingers absently twirling around a strand of her hair.

"Three, if you must know!" Hermione said proudly, pulling away and crossing her arms defiantly.

"Even better," he replied softly in her ear, and she could hear his smile in his voice, "You see? Now _come here_."

Though she tried to contain it, Hermione squeaked quietly as he turned her around and pulled her close to him again.

"I have had need of your company _for quite some time_," Severus whispered, his lips tickling her ear.

Hermione felt the rich sound of his voice fill her until thought that she must be turning red from the top of her head down to her toes.

"It's been too long," she whispered back, though logically she knew that no one else would be able to hear them.

"I thought you were supposed to be too mad with me to be happy to see me," he replied, "But I am happy that you feel similarly, regardless of whether or not you feel in the mood to verbally abuse me."

"Don't make me come up with a pet name for you," Hermione said, smirking as she felt his heart beating against her back, "I promise it will be as hideous a name as I can find."

Hermione finally looked up at the form the room had taken behind them. She almost gasped when she realized that the room before her had a similar look to her own bedroom, though the accents seemed to trend toward black and she was fairly certain that she would never have approved of a canopy bed all done in green velvet.

When she began to look askance at Severus, he merely shrugged.

"The Room does what it wishes to do," he said simply, "If you take issue with it, please feel free to hurl your criticisms at it."

"How long can we….?" Hermione asked, not sure exactly what to call their liaison.

"There are still a few hours before we will be expected to make an appearance in our respective places at the Great Hall," he replied, sitting down on the bed, his hand still loosely holding hers, "So I _suppose_ I was hoping you would be willing to spend each one with me."

"That sounds lovely, actually," Hermione said playfully, slipping her hand out of his and laying back next to him, stretching out her arms and legs, "Ahhhh, that sure does feel good after being hunched over a desk studying and finishing my assignments."

"And whose fault is that?" he asked, lying beside her and turning to the side and propping up the side of his head with his arm, "You always do at least fifty percent more work than you ought to be doing, you know."

"Yeah, well, someone has to make up for the lack of work being done by others," Hermione said mischievously, her grin widening when Severus covered his mouth with his free hand to hide his quiet laughter, "Besides, I would not have pegged you, the terrifyingly strict _Professor Snape,_ as one who would encourage _student delinquency_."

"I highly doubt that I would need to encourage any sort of delinquency. It seems to come quite naturally to all of you without any outside help," he replied sardonically once he had recovered, his eyes still crinkling up at the edges in his good humor, "Besides, you know what I think of those who purport to be know-it-alls and allow their peers to lazily slide through life without learning a whit of information."

"That is _their_ problem, not yours..._or mine_!" Hermione said fiercely, her eyes going dreamy with memory, "When I first found out that I had magic- that I could _do_ magic, I thought to myself that I could think of nothing more than to figure out EVERYTHING to do with it. Because it's magic! Something that those in the muggle world consider pure fantasy. I mean, maybe you don't understand it because you've always known, but for me it was as though an entirely new world had just opened to me and, to be honest, I can't believe that more kids, even those born to magical families, aren't MORE interested in learning absolutely everything there is to know!"

"Hermione," Severus said softly, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, and she broke from her reverie, looking over at him again, "I know exactly what you mean. I may be half-blooded, but I grew up in an almost exclusively muggle household. I suppose you have already deduced that from the location of my childhood home, but as disparaging as I have been towards you, I must admit that when I first came here, I was almost exactly the same as you are, well, with the major difference being that I found myself largely ostracised and bullied."

"It was similar for me when I first came here," Hermione blurted out, her heart aching at the pained expression that had darkened his face, "In fact, Ron and Harry were actually pretty awful to me in regards to my studious nature, if you must know. But then there was a mountain troll and...well...you were there…"

"I almost wish that there _had_ been a convenient mountain troll available when I started off at school," Severus said, wistfully, "It certainly would have been a lot less painful than seven years of being the main target of those damned Marauders and a number of my so-called housemates. Oh, right, and being deluded enough to think that joining the Death Eaters was a good idea so that I could finally be strong enough to stop being a target. Of course, that was a complete cock-up, much like the rest of my life."

Hermione saw his eyes darken as he thought of his own checkered past, and it made her go cold inside.

"Hey," she said softly, stroking his cheek and scooting over to lie flush with his body, "I didn't mean to make you dredge up bad memories. And as I've said a hundred times before, just because you made bad decisions in terrible situations, it doesn't mean that you must suffer for it forever. Your life is not a prison sentence for the things that you did when you were barely an adult."

"So says the girl who is barely an adult and already making some of the hardest decisions I have ever seen someone make," he replied gently, his eyes fixed upon her with something like wonder as he stroked a strand of hair from where it had fallen over her eyes.

"Don't forget the most wonderful decisions," Hermione retorted, "Like...you...like _us_."

"Can I...see you?" he asked quietly, his free hand traveling down to Hermione's abdomen.

Hermione nodded, and he pulled himself up to a sitting position, gently pulling each layer back from jacket to the magical undershirt that she kept on at all times until her belly was bared to the pleasantly warm air in the room.

"May I?" he asked, placing his hands on the rounded swell of her belly as she nodded emphatically.

"You don't think it's...weird? Or ugly?" Hermione asked in a small voice, her heart thudding in her chest as she spoke her insecurities aloud.

Severus gave her a funny look before bending down to kiss her softly on the lips, his hand still stroking her stomach gently.

"Why would I find it to be either of these things?" he asked, pulling away so he could meet her eyes, "It is beautiful and amazing. I confess that I had never thought of it becoming a possibility in my lifetime, but now that it is a reality, I find that the thought of you...of having an actual family of my own...it is often one of the only things that keeps me going, to be honest. I never imagined finding a reason, and yet….there you are...refusing to give up, no matter how much I act like a sour old goat."

"I wouldn't call you a goat," Hermione said, smiling gently as he pulled her closer to him, "More like...a highly finicky cat, one who doesn't like being told what to do and tries to act standoffish and solitary but actually wants to have his belly rubbed and get a million cuddles."

"Hmmph," he snorted, "I see that you have thought this through."

"When do I not?" Hermione retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"When hell freezes over, most likely," he murmured, bending to kiss her again.

After such a long time apart, it might have been expected that both of them would be hungry for sexual satisfaction, but they found themselves basking in the simple pleasures of touch and taste. She kissed him deeply and swooned into the sensation of his hands running up and down the length of her body, stopping to massage her breasts, her belly, her hips and around to her back and her arse.

She used her own fingers to slowly undo the buttons at his neck as she had before on that night in the alcove, and he sighed deeply as her fingers reached underneath to brush against the skin that lay there.

"Does it seem strange that I want to lick your neck?" Hermione asked timorously, as he moved his head to the side to give her access.

"Not unless it is strange that I too enjoy the sensation," he replied, and she felt a strong jolt of joy fill her as he shook against her when she ran her tongue firmly from the back of his ear and down and around his throat until she felt his fingers dig involuntarily into her arm as he allowed himself to let go of his firmly held control. He was practically panting as she finished, kissing up his chin and back to his lips again.

"How did you know...I….hnnnnnnnnn," he started, moaning as she slipped quickly to a spot normally hidden by his collar and nibbled gently on it until a faint pink mark appeared.

"Easy," she replied playfully when she pulled back to admire her work, "It's all about developing a hypothesis, being sure to test it, and then backing up the results with further study."

"Sounds complicated," he managed, his voice almost breathless as she came in to kiss him once more.

"Oh yes, it's very scientific," she replied, smirking a little at the expression of naked desire on his face once she caught her breath again.

"If all of your hypotheses are this fantastic, I would say that it warrants further study," he finally replied after he had a moment to compose himself, taking deep, coordinated breaths to slow the rapid fluttering of his heart.

"Oh, I think that could definitely be arranged," Hermione said, pressing against him more firmly.

"Good," he said, "I'd hate to impede the march of progress."

Before she could say anything else, his lips were on hers again and she surprised herself by rolling on top of him, feeling herself blush as he seemed to shudder at the feeling of her weight pressed into his wiry frame. She tried to pull her shirt back down, but his hands grabbed her wrists softly.

"No," he said, "I want to look at you. All of you."

"Are you sure?" Hermione looked down dubiously at the swell that now stuck out fairly prominently from under her breasts.

She was lucky that she was wearing her uniform skirt around her hips, or it would have ripped when he had pulled the magical fabric up to bare her stomach earlier.

"Yessssss," he whispered, running one of his hands across the front of her stomach while the other cradled her hip, his fingers pressing into the firm flesh on her arse.

"As you wish," Hermione said softly, reaching up to pull off her sweater, and tossing it aside, then pulling off her vest, leaving her red and gold tie to dangle down the front of her. She loosened the tie slightly and tossed it to the floor with her sweater, then set to work unbuttoning her shirt, all the while grinding her knickers slightly into his groin area, which seemed to excite him terribly as he pulled his knees up to rub up against her as well, even though he was mostly still clothed. Hermione pulled off the white magical shirt that hid her condition last, and she was left in her bra and skirt, the proof of her pregnancy hanging lewdly over her skirt.

"Beautiful," he said, his eyes half-closed with desire, "Simply beautiful."

Hermione unhooked her bra last, sighing with relief when her breasts came free of the restrictive material.

"I really need to get fitted for a new bra," she said absently, "I think they've gotten bigger since...well...you know…and oh god, they always seem to be so sore."

"May I?" Severus asked, bringing his hands to her breasts as she nodded emphatically. His hands were cool despite the warmth of the room, and the movement made her nipples harden pleasurably. She found herself moaning in pleasure as he massaged them gently as they had been sore indeed from being stuffed in a too-small bra all day.

When he pulled her down slightly to lick and suck on her areolas as well as the nipples themselves, she blushed heavily, knowing that when stimulated, her breasts were producing tiny pinpricks of breast milk at this point, but he did not seem to mind in the least as he continued, closing his eyes in pleasure as he took them into his mouth one at a time. The feeling of his mouth on her only increased her arousal and she found herself rubbing more firmly into him.

"That will probably work a little better if we get rid of….interfering material," Severus said as he let go of her breasts and placed a hand under her skirt and stilled the movement of her hips by cupping her sex, which was soaking her knickers and beginning to dampen his trousers.

Hermione pulled back slightly, undoing the button and zipper, and he lifted his hips slightly so that she could pull the layers of material away until he was laid bare from the waist down to the knees, and it was quite obvious that he was just as ready for her as she was for him.

"Stand," he commanded, and she stood over him, watching him sit up slightly and slide her knickers down to her knees before she shifted her weight to one side and kicked them off one of her legs and let them fall to her ankle before she kicked them off.

"It seems somewhat unfair that you're still wearing more clothing than I am," Hermione said in a mock pout, still standing over him.

"Come here," he growled, and she bent down, feeling the material of his trousers against her bare arse as she used one hand to guide his cock into her, sliding down slowly until she was on her knees on top of him again. She delighted in the view of his expressions as she slid down over him, her wetness and heat making him bite his lip slightly and let loose small groans of pleasure as she slid down inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.

"On second thought," she said breathily, bringing herself down to him as best she could with her belly pressed against him, "I think this will do quite nicely."

With that, she began to ride him, slowly at first and then more quickly as the friction built a sense of heady pleasure within her. He strained against her, pushing his hips up to meet her thrusts until she thought she might break from the pleasure and pressure that seemed to build inside of her, even as the sweet taste of orgasm began to rise in the back of her throat.

It _had _been awhile.

She barely had time to moan as her orgasm built and hit her out of nowhere. Severus groaned loudly under her when he felt her tighten and press against him, and he followed her shortly after, bucking hard and emptying himself out inside of her until there was nothing left inside of him.

She rolled off of him awkwardly (she noticed that pregnancy had lowered her center of gravity, which made many things more difficult when she was not covering it up with magic) and they lay next to one another, full of a sated relief that sent them falling into a sleepy stupor.

"I love you," Hermione whispered softly as she snuggled into his warmth, a black blanket now tucked over the both of them.

"And _you_...you are...you are my heart," Severus replied drowsily, his arm draped around her protectively.

Neither noticed that they had fallen asleep with their fingers still intertwined.


End file.
